


The Sum of Existence

by trashmallow



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Fluff and Humor, M/M, also bolin and some other folks should make appearances later, and wu's just... wu's wu yknow, but not tagging since it's minor and i don't want ya'll getting too excited, but who doesn't enjoy some good conspiracy amirite, fOUR GODDAMN YEARS WTF, i've been working on this for four fuckin years guys, it's mainly just wuko and some dai li assholes, mako and wu are both idiots and i have no other descriptors for them, mako's his usual stoic suspicious firebendy self with closet awkwardness, where there's a discernible time period of me not working on it, which means the writing style probably drastically changes every few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmallow/pseuds/trashmallow
Summary: "The entire sum of existence is the magic of being needed by just one other person." -Vi PutnamMonths following Kuvira's defeat, Prince (now King, though apparently President, he's decided) Wu and his ever loyal bodyguard Mako make a triumphant return to Ba Sing Se to begin preparations of separating the Earth Kingdom into states—effectively abolishing the monarchical rule of centuries. The help of the Dai Li has been enlisted in their efforts, much to a suspicious Mako's dismay, and as they come into close relations with the organization, a plot beneath the surface begins to unveil.In the heat of conspiracy, the two boys learn what they truly mean to each other, and discover along the way that a guard may need his prince just as much as his prince needs him.





	1. Green or Polka Dot?

**Author's Note:**

> HOOBOY.
> 
> Here we go. If you took the time to peruse the tags on this, this here story has been in the works since LoK ended, and not because it's actually a long novel or anything? It's just me being a lazy shit who would write some chapters, then not touch it again for a year until my atla/lok musing inevitably came back so. Some good old-fashioned 2015 writing at the beginning that hopefully evolves and gets better as the story goes on??? Hopefully? 8')))
> 
> Whatever--that being said. Since I started this at LoK's finale, the comics are NOT taken into account. None of that canon applies to this story. Groovy.
> 
> The plan is to post one chapter a week (which hopefully gives me enough time to finish it as I have plenty already written), so... be on the lookout for those weekly updates!
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you!

“Mako. Hey, _Mako!_ ”

A set of fingers snapped loudly in front of his face, bringing the firebender to blink out of his trance and focus on the impatient boy sitting across from him.

“There he is.” Wu released an exasperated breath, but it took him only an extra moment to regain his composure. He lifted up two pieces of fabric, waved them energetically in front of himself. “What one do you like? I’ve got this nice deep green that adds _just_ the right accent to my suit, or this snazzy yellow one with polka dots that I think is a great symbol of my personality.”

Mako couldn’t prevent the furrowing of his brows, questioning how their conversation had managed to make its way to Wu’s fashion. He ran his tongue across his front teeth and glanced back out the window of the train where the lower ring of Ba Sing Se was zooming past. It looked much better than the last time he had been there, that was certain. Perhaps Kuvira’s efforts _had_ done a little bit of good. Not that he’d so readily admit it after all the chaos she had caused.

“Hell _oooo_? What’s the point of you if I can’t get your opinion on my fashion choices?”

“I think you’re asking the wrong guy, Wu.” His gaze shifted to look at him. “I grew up on the streets, remember?” Observing the two cravats in Wu’s hands, however, Mako proceeded with an answer. “Well, the yellow one looks like moldy cheese, so I’d go with the green.”

The prince—or _king,_ at this point, though his title was unclear with his intention to demolish the monarchy—glanced back and forth between his two choices with lips pursed in deep thought. He then ended up shrugging and tossing the mossy green garment aside. “Eh. I like the polka dots. _Snazzy._ ”

A pathetic look crossed Mako’s face. “Why would you even ask me if you aren’t going to listen?”

“I was just asking for your opinion.” Wu fussed with wrapping the cravat around his neck. “That didn’t mean I was actually going to agree with it.”

Seeing that he was having troubles (as was a normality even with _dressing_ himself), Mako sighed gently and knelt on the floor in front of him to help. He tied off the decorative piece securely yet comfortably, worked on adjusting the collar of Wu’s shirt neatly around it. The cravat actually accented his emerald suit quite nicely, though that was something Mako was much too proud to announce aloud.

And he wasn’t even sure if it was more the accessory or the person himself that looked… decent _._

Wu sat obediently still while his bodyguard adjusted various aspects of his outfit, leaning back in his seat with a content smile on his face. “For the meeting—I was thinking—we could get the help of the secret police to start forming separate states.”

Mako halted in the middle of refastening a button on Wu’s coat. “The ‘secret police’? You mean the Dai Li?” A slight nod of affirmation was all he had to receive before his eyes narrowed and his mouth went dry. “Wu, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You know their history, don’t you?”

“If you’re talking about what happened way back during the days of Avatar Aang, then—”

“No, it’s not just that.” Mako placed a hand on the king’s knee to push himself up, gaze meeting the green of his. “They imprisoned airbenders when your great-aunt ruled, conspired against the king before her… Do you _really_ think they’re fit to help in separating the kingdom? I doubt they even agree with your idea.”

Wu’s lips formed a pout, and he folded his arms loosely across his chest. “Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“My confidence in you has nothing to do with it; you know I don’t doubt you.” He frowned, though there was a gentleness in his gaze. “It’s my distrust of them. Wu, they’re known to be ruthless and manipulative. I just don’t want them taking advantage—”

“Of what? Me?”

“Well—” The words were broken by hesitation. “Yes. Look, I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself—”

“It sure sounds like it.” Wu’s nose wrinkled. “My great-aunt ordered them to make an army of airbenders for her—which was borderline insane _,_ I know—and they just carried out those orders. It wasn’t their idea. That just proves their loyalty to who’s in charge. And, FYI, that’s me now.”

Mako brushed a hand across his forehead as he sat haphazardly back in his seat. “That doesn’t mean they didn’t agree with her.”

“Whether or not they _agreed_ is moot. They did as they were asked and will do the same for me.” The king had slid down into a sulking pose. When he spoke again, he flourished his wrist with a touch of gusto. “Besides who wouldn’t like my idea? You said so yourself how brilliant it is.”

Turning away to hide the irritation on his face, Mako only managed to murmur a “You’d be surprised” that went unheard. The conversation had been dropped, and no sooner was Wu pressing his face to the window of the train with excitement as they entered the upper ring. Mako ignored the childlike action. Rather, he ignored the entirety of the outside world beyond the train. Last time he had been there hadn’t been the greatest of visits.

This visit was slowly proving to be very similar.

He’d have to be keeping an extra eye on Wu if the Dai Li were getting involved. The past had done a good job of hatching caution deep within him for the organization. As “loyal” as they seemed to be, Mako had a good idea of the kind of people they were. And he did not think they’d so readily miss an opportunity to manipulate someone who—to be frank—was easily swayed.

It also wasn’t a secret that they had supported Kuvira in her efforts. That made Prince Wu their _foe._

Naturally, transportation by the monorail had been a private event. Wu’s status offered him that privilege, leaving only him, Mako, and a few officers sent by Lin as occupants in the train car. It hadn’t even come to a complete stop when Wu bounced up from his seat and strolled along the aisle to reach the door. Mako had been several steps behind until he took note of the stony-faced men waiting expectantly a few yards outside of the train. Then, he was at Wu’s side with a protective hand latched around the bend of his elbow.

“Welcome to Ba Sing Se, King Wu,” a man standing at the front of formation greeted as he offered a courteous bow. He had pale skin, dark hair slicked back, and a piercing blue gaze that created an uncomfortable twist in Mako’s stomach. An introduction didn’t even have to be given for Mako to assume who this stranger was.

“I am Ju-long,” he proceeded once his eyes had resettled on the young ruler. “Leader of the Dai Li. It is an honor to be serving you.”

Wu had initially seemed too obsessed with taking in his surroundings to regard the man before him, but a rough nudge from Mako brought him back to the present. “Yes! We were just talking about you guys. Hello, hello,” he answered. “You came all this way just to greet me. Isn’t that _nice_ , Mako?”

The firebender didn’t once tear his attention away from Ju-long, his expression hard and suspicious as the Dai Li agent regarded him with a glance.

“Mako. He’s your personal bodyguard, I assume?” Ju-long’s thin eyebrows quirked, and a faint smirk was noticeable on the corner of his lips. “I had been under the impression you were only acting as a guard for the young prince while in Republic City. What brings you with him to Ba Sing Se?”

“Decided not to give up the job.” Mako’s words were blunt and uncooperative.

But the Dai Li agent wasn’t fazed by the cool tone. A smile remained present on his face, but the tilt of his head was taken as patronizing by the firebender. “I see. Dedicated to your duty—inspiring. Your arm has healed, then?”

His muscles tensed at the inquiry, and his eyes dipped instinctively to the burned scars laced around his fingers.

“Oh, don’t you worry.” Wu cut into the conversation, pulled his bodyguard into half of a hug. “Good ol’ Mako’s as tough as always.”

Mako noted the smug look on Ju-long’s face, something so subtle that it was clearly meant for only him. Lifting the arm in question, Mako turned his hand and created a large flame within his palm. He let it flicker in front of the agent’s face for several moments.

“Like he said,” he nearly growled as he clenched his fingers into a fist to extinguish the fire, “Don’t worry about it.”

Ju-long held steady despite the vague threat he had been given. He nodded his head as a sign of courtesy, though Mako didn’t buy it for a second. “How nice that you’ve recovered. Where would King Wu be without you?”

That satisfied grin on his face was enough to send a shudder through Mako’s body. He did not like this guy. Not _one_ bit.

“Y’know, we were just discussing that on our way here—is ‘King’ really a fit title for me with where things will be going?” Wu piped in again, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two. Mako was also positive this “discussion” Wu mentioned had just been Wu blabbing endlessly while he pretended to listen; he didn’t even remember that topic. “Maybe… no, get this. What if I was _President_ Wu?” That statement, of course, was said with an extravagant outstretch of his arms.

Ju-long humored him. More so than Mako, at least. The Dai Li agent answered his words with a warm smile, and one that was so warm that Mako wondered if he was even looking at the same person as before. “That can be discussed in detail at our meeting, Your Majesty. But it does not fit someone of your status to stand around the monorail speaking of such things—no matter the title. I wager you’d like to take this to the palace.”

Wu tucked his hands in front of his chest. “Is that even a question? Let’s go while we still have daylight.” He started forward, waved his fingers nonchalantly to beckon Mako.

The Dai Li began to lead the king out of the station. They filed in on all sides of him to create a protective barrier, almost managing to block Mako out had he attached himself to Wu’s side a moment too late. His attention shifted to their leader, and their eyes locked firmly again.

For some reason, Ju-long was particularly interested in Wu’s firebending bodyguard.

But the feeling was mutual—perhaps for similar reasons.


	2. In Which Mako is Over-Protective

The group had only to exit the station to reach their mode of transportation, which turned out to be a single man-pulled carriage. Knowing that such carriages only ever held two people at most, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the seat was meant for the king. But as Wu climbed inside with a childish bounce to his step, Ju-long approached from the other side and made a move to join him.

Obviously, that was something Mako wouldn’t settle for.

“What, the leader of the Dai Li can’t walk with his own two feet?” he inquired, grabbing at Wu’s waist when the king briefly lost his balance.

Ju-long had wrapped his fingers around the cart’s handle, but he hesitated when he heard those words. His brows rose at first, then fell into a calmer expression when met with the fierceness of Mako’s. “I had actually hoped to discuss some matters with the new king—”

“President.” Wu stated this sharply with one finger raised. “I’m starting to like the sound of that.”

The break in Ju-long’s façade had been enough to reveal a trace of annoyance on his face. “Right.” He redirected his attention to the firebender. “There are some things I wish to discuss with the _president_ regarding his plans for the kingdom.”

Mako’s lips pursed, not even realizing the way he kept a hand firmly on Wu’s leg—as if to keep him from slipping away. “Isn’t that what your meeting is for?”

“Well, yes, of course, but if we were to make sure we’re on the same page to start—”

“We have all afternoon for that boring stuff,” the king—president?—dismissed. “Let me get a good look at my capital.”

The pleased grin on Mako’s face had been unavoidable, and he didn’t make an attempt to hide it. He lifted his head, settled a hand on his hip as he waited expectantly for an argument from the Dai Li’s leader. Much to his satisfaction, Ju-long seemed at a loss of how to proceed. The man’s lips had parted with shock at the rejection, and stayed that way for a good while before he managed to get a hold of himself.

“Indeed. How impolite of me,” he responded, an uncertain air detectable in his voice. “I will… leave you to it, then.” Ju-long backed away from the carriage and offered a firm nod to the man pulling it. Then, with one last look at Mako, the agent pivoted on his heel and advanced to the front of the group.

Mako remained where he was: stationed by Wu’s side.

That was where he belonged, after all.

The group proceeded at a brisk, yet considerably relaxed pace through the upper ring’s streets. Much like the formation they had created around Wu upon exiting the station, the Dai Li stood on all sides of the cart carrying him. Mako was inside the square of agents, so close to Wu that it was impressive the wheels of the carriage hadn’t run over his toes.

He was comfortable in that position despite the possibility of crushing his feet. As long as he remained between Wu and these so-called loyal police, Mako was content. He only wished he was able to voice his concerns for a second time—inform the capital’s ruler of his uneasiness toward Ju-long. With the Dai Li only paces away from him, though, he was forced to remain silent.

Not that he expected Wu to listen to his warning. The boy—really, he _wasn’t_ much more than a boy considering his age—was acting much like he had never set foot in Ba Sing Se before. His head was constantly swinging back and forth (along with his entire torso) to take in the sights. Each time something he considered notable came into view, he’d rap a hand much too violently against Mako’s shoulder to grab his attention.

“Ow! You don’t need to _slap_ me; I’m right beside—”

“See that place?” Wu nearly fell off his seat as he leaned forward to point. “It’s called _The Jasmine Dragon_ and has been around for over fifty years. Pretty impressive, right?”

Mako didn’t have the heart to honestly announce his disinterest.

“They’ve got _the_ best tea.” The deemed president held up his hands to accentuate his point, waved his fingers in-sync with the syllables that fell from his tongue. “You like tea, right? I’ll take you there sometime.” He seemed to have calmed slightly after that declaration as he leaned back with a satisfied hum.

“Yeah,” Mako murmured, his eyes passing over the surrounding Dai Li. “Not sure we’ll have time for tea parties.”

A light scoff broke from Wu’s throat. “Pish posh. We can go out this evening after the meeting. It’s not like we’ll begin actually _doing_ things today.” He laughed lightly to himself, as if Mako was ridiculous for thinking otherwise.

While it didn’t sound like the best way to spend the evening, Mako was certain there were worse things they could do. That, and it probably meant getting away from the penetrating eyes of the Dai Li for just a short while.

“Oh, oh! And there’s also this place called the _Fancy Lady Day Spa_ that we have to check out. I’ve always wanted to go there, but just haven’t had the time.”

There was one of those “worse things” he had been thinking about.

“The _Fancy_ Lady _Day Spa?_ ” He offered a look of distaste. “Maybe you haven’t realized it’s got ‘Lady’ in its title. Isn’t that a good indicator that it’s, I dunno, for _girls?_ ”

Wu waved a dismissive hand and crossed his legs comfortably. “No, listen. You can interpret it like ‘Lady Day,’ which refers to one of those ‘girls days’ where you go and pamper yourself—”

“Did you just hear yourself? ‘ _Girls_ days.’”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t let literal meanings hold you back from doing what you want.”

_That isn’t something I_ want _to do,_ Mako thought bitterly. Knowing his opinion didn’t have too much value, though, he kept those words to himself. Perhaps Wu would be thinking a little differently if the workers at the spa attempted to put make-up on him. Then again, something convinced him that Wu wouldn’t be dissuaded by that.

There were a lot of other things the president had to ramble about, obviously. The entire journey to the palace was filled with Wu’s voice—whether it be pointing things out or telling stories of his childhood. Mako only listened to half of it, as usual, but was given a constant reminder to pay attention each time he felt a rough tap to his arm.

His focus, for the most part, was on Ju-long leading the formation. On the Dai Li agents surrounding him. On the citizens passing by with gestures of respect to their ruler. _Anyone_ who could act as a potential threat.

He harbored a grand distrust for this city in its entirety. Mako wasn’t sure he had ever been tenser. Deep down, a voice was telling him how irrational he was being—how he hadn’t even given anyone a chance to _prove_ they were loyal to Wu.

The Dai Li, though…

_Ju-long_

It didn’t take more than the mere thought of those sharp eyes to cause unrest to bubble within him. Someone like that could so easily take the uneducated, dependent personality of Wu and bend it to their will. Toy with him. _Manipulate_ him.

So lost in the suspicions prying at his mind, Mako hadn’t even noticed they had reached their destination until he nearly walked right into an agent standing in front of him. He yanked himself out of his trance, cast a sideways glance to the palace. And in that amount of time, Ju-long was already at his side.

“As you can see, things are nice and orderly here in the capital. We’ve got Kuvira to thank for that.” It sounded much like a casual comment, though not one Mako was letting slide so easily.

“Yeah, and we’ve also got her to thank for most of the destruction in Republic City. And the _prisons_ she tossed ‘foreigners’ into,” he said in a biting remark, only turning his head to assist Wu in climbing out of his carriage.

Ju-long smiled that disgustingly sweet smile—one that grated on Mako’s nerves—and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Mistakes happen, as expected. I do think we can shape the Earth Kingdom into a better place through continued efforts—this time under the leadership of our president.”

“Wu’s got some great ideas.” The subject of conversation was brushing wrinkles out of his suit as they spoke. “I think it would be a _good idea_ to listen to them.”

“Yes. I imagine he does. Separating the kingdom into states, though…” Ju-long directed his attention to Wu, one brow arched skeptically. “I do hope you know how much work that will be, _sir._ ”

Wu, seemingly just now realizing a conversation was happening, turned to the Dai Li leader. He stood in passive silence at first, but was quick to answer as soon as he caught up with the discussion. “I was hoping you and your Dai Li could help out with that. Of course it’s not going to be _easy._ But that’s not really the point, now is it?”

Ju-long made a soft noise in his throat. “You’re right.” He placed an encouraging hand on Wu’s shoulder and began to lead him through the palace’s doors. Mako was only a step behind him, all but growling as he walked. “But I suppose you can tell us all about your plans in the meeting. We have some officials in the conference room waiting for your arrival.”

“Right _now?_ ” It was apparent that Wu was doing all in his power not to let out a groan. “Okay, fine. Better sooner than later. Mako—” The boy turned his head and held out his arm as invitation for his guard to grab it.

Ju-long intervened.

“You won’t be needing your bodyguard in the meeting, President Wu. I assure you my Dai Li will provide the proper protection—though I do not think you will require it.”

Mako’s face scrunched, and he moved forward to take Wu’s arm defiantly. “Respectfully, it is my _duty_ to stay by his side wherever he goes. This is no exception.”

Clearly, Ju-long had been expecting that response. He didn’t so much as flinch or falter when those words were said, instead stared levelly at the disgruntled firebender. “Again, your devotion is honorable, but the conference room is very safe. I personally assure you that you will not be needed.”

Not be _needed._

As if that couldn’t have been said in nicer words. As if Ju-long couldn’t have said, “I personally assure you that Wu will be safe.” No, he had to make Mako the subject. He _had_ to say that he was unneeded—that his presence was unimportant.

That Wu had no _use_ of him.

He grit his teeth. “Look—”

“Oh, Mako.” Wu gently tugged his arm out of Mako’s grip, not without offering his hand a light pat. “Stop your worrying. It’s just a boring ol’ meeting, anyway.” He backed away from his bodyguard, and a tender smile spread across his face. “Besides, you’ve got to get yourself cleaned up for tonight. I’m taking you out, remember?”

Mako had been glaring reproachfully into the eyes of the Dai Li’s leader, trying to muster every bit of “I will personally strangle you if Wu is hurt by your hands” into one look. It was only when he figured the message had gotten across that he brought his attention to Wu. His expression softened without even an ounce of effort.

“Okay.” He nodded submissively. “I’ll… see you around.”

Wu’s grin widened, and Mako would’ve much liked to take in that carefree happiness on his face for just a moment longer before Ju-long began ushering him away.

And when the two of them disappeared around a corner with the group of Dai Li at their heels, Mako tried his hardest to stifle the crushing anxiety that had overcome him. He stared for several moments longer down that hallway, felt his fingers twitch restlessly at his sides. It felt so… _wrong_ not being there with Wu—not being capable of guaranteeing his safety or offering him support.

To think that he had wanted so badly to be rid of him months prior...

Mako shook his head and let out a long exhale to calm his nerves. _Right. Tea tonight. Spa._ Nothing in the world would prevent the pampered boy from missing out on that. Nothing in the world would prevent Wu from scolding Mako if he wasn’t prepared for their night out, either.

And by “prepared,” that meant ensuring everything was in order for _Wu._

He went to find the new president’s quarters.


	3. Mistaken for a Swooning Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's WUKO WEDNESDAY folks!!  
> Here's the next installment! Thanks to any and all support I've received on this so far; you all really do encourage me to stay on top of things, and I really appreciate the time you take to so much as leave a kudos. :)  
> My chapters remain fairly short--dependent on how ahead I get with writing, I may consider posting 2 a week, but we'll see how the writing process goes. ;P  
> Enjoy a few fluffy moments between the boys before things get real!

“You really need to work on your fashion sense, Mako.”

The firebender had permanent impatience on his face as they strolled along the streets of Ba Sing Se, having been listening to Wu’s reprimanding ever since they left the palace. He had, with the idea of being _helpful_ , picked out what he thought to be a nice outfit for the new president to wear on their evening out. It was Wu’s yelp of terror and consecutive complaining that had him regretting his decision immediately.

From now on, he’d let the spoiled brat choose what to wear on his own.

“Seriously, were you trying to humiliate me in front of my people?” Wu visibly shuddered at the thought, hugging his dark coat tighter around himself.

“Pretty sure you do a good enough job of that yourself,” Mako remarked, but he was hasty to say something else before the boy was given a chance to argue. “I just grabbed what I thought looked good, okay? It’s not my problem you’re so picky.”

“I beg to differ, my good sir.” He turned to playfully flick a finger at his guard’s nose. “My problems _are_ your problems. That’s what you get for being my personal bodyguard.”

A soft groan released from Mako’s throat. “Don’t remind me.”

Wu turned to face forward, an all-too-pleased-with-himself smile ornamenting his face. He had a bounce to his step and oftentimes spun his decorative cane absentmindedly at his side. Mako had to more than once grab onto his arm and tug him away from passersby to keep the president from smacking them on accident.

“Okay, s _ooo,_ I’ve got this all planned out.” Wu tucked his cane beneath his arm and held his hands, palms out, in front of himself. “Picture this. We go get some tea from that place I pointed out earlier. Then we go to the spa and freshen up a bit, and after we both look dressed to the nines—well, you, not me, since I already _am_ —we can peruse the upper ring for fantastical sights as we waste the night away.”

“Waste” was a good way to describe it.

“Uh- _huh_.” Mako rolled his eyes. “Can we, I dunno, skip the spa part?”

He was answered with a horrified gasp. “Absolutely _not._ That’s the most important part of the evening! Or do you really want to just wear your bland ol’ uniform around for the rest of the night?”

“Better than a dress.”

Wu stuck out his lower lip in an unimpressed pout. “I already told you that it’s not just for girls.” He crossed his arms, the hook of his (incredibly pointless) cane hanging over the bend of his elbow. “Even so, if there _are_ a lot of girls in there…” A smirk crossed his face, and he nudged Mako impishly.

As per usual, Mako wasn’t fazed. “Don’t you remember what I told you? I’m not dealing with girls anymore.”

“At all?”

The firebender shrugged and looked away. “For now.”

There was a small silence that followed, both of them idly observing their surroundings. The bustle of Ba Sing Se was dying down as evening stretched across the sky, making the streets easier to navigate. Mako silently hoped this meant no one would be around to witness two _men_ going to the _Fancy Lady Day Spa._

“So, you’re into boys, then?”

Mako stopped short, and his answer came out in an incredulous bark. “What?” It took Wu a moment longer to come to a halt, the inquiring expression he wore when he turned to face Mako egging the firebender on. “N-no! That’s ridiculous. Why would—”

“It’s okay, Mako. I understand.” He traveled the distance between them, placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Girls and boys alike swoon at the sight of me. It was only a matter of time before you did, too.”

It was unclear whether or not the red that flushed his cheeks was out of anger or embarrassment—probably more of a mix than just one or the other. Mako let out an agitated _tsk_ as he lightly slapped Wu’s hand away and sidled past him to continue down the street. “Get over yourself. I’m your bodyguard, not your date.”

“Touch- _y._ ” Wu didn’t hesitate to follow at his heels. “You can be my date tonight, if you want. I _am_ paying for your tea—dinner, whatever you wanna call it—and taking you to the spa. Pretty date-y, right?”

Mako dragged a hand down his face when he felt his skin become hotter, and he ducked his head in a feeble attempt to hide it.

“And, see, this date is much better than last time.” Wu hooked his arm around Mako’s.

“ _Last_ time?”

“Yeah, ’cause this is _real_ Ba Sing Se. Not that little fashion mall in the city.”

Mako was in stunned silence at first, still appalled by how… no, there wasn’t even a word to describe Wu at this point. “That was not a date.”

“Y’sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, okay.” The president waved one of his hands dismissively. “Then _this_ can be our first if you—”

“No.”

“But we’re—”

“Is that the tea place?” Mako of course had no idea what they were looking for, but the moment he saw a fancy building up ahead with a banner of two dragons hanging over the door, he took it as the perfect opportunity to force their conversation to its end. Luckily for him, his plan succeeded.

Like the excitable child he embodied, Wu’s attention had been diverted, and he was soon dragging his bodyguard toward the entrance.

Mako was given a breath of relief, if only that much.

They were seated quickly—a product of the dwindling customers for the evening and Wu’s status. Those still present in the shop were either giving him looks of awe or half-concealed glowers. Wu picked up on the awe, unsurprisingly, but was entirely oblivious to the less than appreciative glares from a handful of the patrons. It was Mako who noticed those, and he made sure to keep a sharp eye on the people who weren’t nearly fainting fangirls.

The conversation shifted to less embarrassing matters. Wu was his usual self, rambling aimlessly about his favorite teas—all of which were of no interest to Mako—and proceeded to order a blend of honey and vanilla for his guard that he promised was delicious. That and a plate of pastries for the two of them was what they called “dinner.”

While the tea was much too sweet for his tastes, Mako had enough manners to drink it. Bringing up a point of inquiry was what helped to split the time between cautious sips.

“Did you decide what to do about creating states and all?” He smacked his lips to neutralize the sweet flavor hanging in his mouth. “What’s your plan for that?”

Wu was leaning back in his chair, probably one thought short of resting his feet on the table. “Not exactly. I have support, but the Dai Li said there are still several villages all but overrun with bandits.” He bit into an almond biscuit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So, first we’re going to get rid of the bandits. Once that’s all good and done, we’ll move into actually separating the villages into states. I guess that’s when things will get a bit messier.”

“What do you plan on doing with the bandits?”

“The Dai Li are dealing with that for the most part.” Wu shrugged lamely. “We’re heading out tomorrow to begin ‘cleansing’ the kingdom.”

Mako nearly choked on his tea. “Wait, ‘we’? Why are you going?”

“Remember that time in Republic City when you set everyone into a panic and I calmed them down with just my inspirational words?”

“Yes,” came a grudging reply.

“Well, Ju-long said I should use my influence to an advantage and help calm down the people who have been attacked or gotten things stolen by the bandits. Y’know, give them something to be excited about since they’ll be getting their homes back and the kingdom is going to become a bunch of separate states and I can show them how much I care if I’m actually present.” He puffed out his chest with pride. “And maybe even the bandits can be reasoned with.”

Mako was pretty sure the amount of hatred he felt for Ju-long was a tad ridiculous at this point. Just the mention of his name sent a rush of anger through his body, and he had to loosen his grip on his cup of tea when he realized how tight it had gotten. “I don’t think you can do much about the bandits, Wu.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try, now does it?”

_Debatable._

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Do what you want—as long as I go with you.” The firebender set down his tea and folded his arms. “You need me around.” The taste in his mouth turned bitter when he recalled Ju-long’s words of being unneeded. He was very ready to prove him wrong.

Wu snickered. “Of course, tough guy. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Heat returned to Mako’s face, one quite similar to the sensation he felt back when Wu implied they were on a date. It was less intense this time, but that didn’t stop him from raising his cup and downing the rest of the overly sweet drink in order to hide his blush.

“Stay there.” Wu was climbing out of his seat, his attention focused on a group of girls giggling in the corner. “I’ve gotta hand out some autographs to the dames.” And he was gone no more than a second later.

The girls let out excited, incoherent noises at their beloved prince’s approach, their blushes deepening and their expressions turning shyer. A few looked close to passing out when Wu sat amongst them.

Mako, as ordered, watched the interaction passively from a distance.

And he concluded Wu was completely wrong about his assumption.

He wasn’t anything like those girls. He wasn’t constantly swooning in Wu’s presence. He wasn’t becoming giddy each time Wu so much as looked at him.

Mako was his bodyguard _._ It was his job to protect him. He’d risk his life to ensure his safety. Just like he had risked his life countless times for his little brother. Just like he jumped into danger to protect Korra and Asami.

There couldn’t possibly be more to it.


	4. Still Not a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Since I'm (fairly) confident I can finish writing this in a month or so, I'm going to start posting two chapters a week. Aiming for Wednesdays and Sundays so there's a somewhat steady flow of new content. :)  
> I will of course make note of any changes to that "schedule" but—for now, expect chapters on those days!
> 
> Here's some bonus fluff for you guys! And some vague talk of Wu's past that I think I made up? Don't @ me I wrote this chapter 4 years ago; I have no idea where I got the information if not out of my ass. My apologies if it's blatantly against canon idek anymore guys.
> 
> Thanks to those of you sticking with this, and I hope you enjoy!

Mako praised every single spirit he could think of.

Wu… well, he was taking it a lot worse.

“ _Closed?_ How could it possibly be closed? This is an outrage!”

They stood before the _Fancy Lady Day_ _Spa_ , staring at the locked door with contrasting expressions on their faces. While Mako was trying his hardest to conceal the smile that tugged relentlessly on his mouth, Wu looked so horrified that one would assume he had just been given grave news. Then again, something like this _was_ pretty grave for the pompous boy. The way he nearly collapsed to the ground in defeat was only slightly unreasonable.

“Mako!” Wu spun around and grabbed the front of his bodyguard’s coat desperately. “How could you let this happen?”

“Me?” He scrunched his nose, yanked away from the grip. “How is this _my_ fault?”

“I told you we should’ve gone to the spa first. But everything had to be your way, didn’t it?” The president clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. Settling his hands on his hips, he upturned his chin and looked away with a mighty pout. “Now our date is ruined.”

The firebender inhaled sharply as if to bite out a remark, but he ended up letting out the breath in a huff. “Still not a _date,_ ” he began in a voice that was strained to keep his cool. “And don’t go laying the blame on me. You planned this entire thing; I had nothing to do with it.”

Wu’s arms fell limp at his sides, and his eyes shifted back to the spa mournfully. He looked about as distraught as he had been on the day of his coronation. If anyone ever argued that this guy _wasn’t_ a real drama queen, Mako reserved the right to punch them in the face.

“There’s nothing we can do about it, now, alright?” He tapped a foot impatiently. “Let’s just go on with what we were gonna do after the spa.”

A prolonged sigh seeped through Wu’s lips, and Mako was fully expecting him to be unwilling to give up his despair in favor of the rest of the night’s activities. Once he had gotten his grief out of his system, though, a spark of energy returned that brought him to straighten his posture. He rolled his shoulders back, looked out at the darkened city of Ba Sing Se as though he had just climbed over one of life’s worst obstacles and come out a better man.

Again. Drama queen.

“You’re right. We can’t let our night be ruined just because of your mistake.” Wu bounced down the steps, patting Mako’s shoulder heartily as he passed him. “Don’t worry—I’ll give you that spa treatment some other time.”

Mako rolled his eyes as he followed. “I’m trembling with excitement right now.”

“You’ll just have to suck it up for a bit longer. First thing we’ll do once we sweep out all of the bandits? Spa day.”

“Goodie.”

“Until then, follow me.” Wu grabbed his bodyguard’s arm and began dragging him eagerly down the street. “I’ve got something to show you!”

Mako wasn’t sure what the rush was; now that they had missed out on the spa, they had a lot more time than before. But he knew there was no use arguing. As Wu pulled him along behind him, he obediently followed at a brisk pace to keep from tripping over himself. It had to be him who was offering a few soft apologies to any lingering night-dwellers that they nearly shoved past. Wu didn’t so much as grant them a glance.

He was _very_ focused on this unnamed destination of theirs. Like a child tugging his parent behind him to present a new animal he wanted as a pet. In a way, it reminded Mako a bit of Bolin.

A faint smile grew on his face at the thought.

When they were brought to a stop on one of Ba Sing Se’s bridges that arched elegantly over the river, Mako was convinced that Wu had gotten lost and was simply trying to regain his bearings. They hadn’t come across a boutique. No tea shop. No smoothie place. No vendor selling over-priced jewelry. They were in the middle of the bridge under the purple dusk sky, and Wu was leaning over the rail gazing attentively into the water.

He had gotten distracted, no doubt.

“Wu, are we—”

“Can I borrow a light?”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I wanna show you something,” the president urged, and he began to climb over the railing with an air of nonchalance.

Mako didn’t waste a second to latch an arm around his waist and hold him back. “Are you _crazy?_ ”

Wu glanced back at him with a curious brow quirked. He then smiled, shaking his head as he gently tugged himself out of Mako’s grip. “No. Trust me. I’ve done this literally millions of times.”

_Literally._ Somehow, Mako thought that was an over-exaggeration.

“C’mon, Mr. Tough Guy. Not afraid of a little water, are you? It’s _really_ shallow, and if you stand on the edge, you won’t even get wet.” Wu was now on the other side of the rails, looking up at his guard’s appalled expression with a smirk. “Still need that light, by the way.”

“Can you first explain what we’re doing?” Mako was casting nervous glances back and forth, worried the two of them would look suspicious with their actions of _sneaking under a bridge._

“Light, please!”

Insufferable, as usual. Breathing out an agitated sigh, he created a small flame within his palm, reached it over the bridge’s edge to keep a cautious eye on Wu as the boy climbed to the water below. Never once did he deem Wu to be one to so willingly get his clothes messy in the city’s rivers.

Or just get his clothes messy at all.

Wu squinted in the faint light that had been provided, stepping cautiously through the water swirling around his ankles. “You down here?” he said in a soft coo.

“No. Does it look like I am?” Mako replied.

Wu knelt down, craned his neck as he searched the darkness of the bridge’s underside. “It’s okay. Remember me?”

“Wu, what are you _doing?_ ”

“Shhh!” He looked up to give Mako a reproachful glare. “Would you come down already? They’re not going to bite you.”

A befuddled look crossed Mako’s face, and he leaned forward to try to get a better view of the shadows blanketing the river. “Who?”

The president was silent at first, having moved a few paces further under the bridge. Tentative, inhuman sounds echoed from within, along with several encouraging words from Wu that were said so softly that they could barely be heard.

Mako carefully climbed down to stand by his side, the fire that licked at his fingertips shedding a brighter light on the previously dark area. His eyes caught sight of a cluster of what appeared to be dark stones, but the fluffy patches of yellow sticking out of two ends of each “stone” slowly sparked realization in his mind. Lips parted, Mako only refocused his eyes on Wu when he turned to face him.

One of those stones was nestled in his hands.

“A… turtle duck?”

Wu grinned sheepishly, his shoulders hunched with a hint of embarrassment. “Yeah. I was worried they wouldn’t be here anymore with all that Ba Sing Se’s been through, but they’re strong little fellas.” He stroked a finger over the creature’s head, receiving a small quack of acknowledgment.

If Mako could pick one word to describe the wild mix of emotions churning within him, he’d call himself confused more than anything else. Sure, Wu had a thing for badger moles (and additionally a thing for singing to them: an _un_ necessary evil, really), but Mako didn’t once contemplate the possibility that he shared that same adoration for other animals. And it really wasn’t just empty adoration, either, but _affection._

Looking at Wu’s face, he saw an entirely new tenderness in his eyes that he had never witnessed until this very moment. He trailed his fingers gingerly over the turtle duck, lifted the small creature closer to his face the more enthralled he got. For a moment, it seemed as though Mako’s presence had been forgotten altogether.

“I used to visit them all the time when I was young—well, young _er,_ ” Wu explained. Even his tone was different—lacking flamboyance and not nearly as blaringly loud as it usually was. “My parents took me when they were—when they were around. We’d feed them bread, watch them grow. It was probably my favorite thing to do, even in comparison to spa days.” He gave Mako a smile that contained a trace of amusement.

“Then, once they passed, I’d usually drag a guard with me. Never the same one, of course. They were always changing—switching off who had to deal with me each day.” He crouched and set the turtle duck down along with the rest of its family. The pause that followed as he watched it nuzzle into the group was heavy, full of the somber emotions Wu’s words put into the air. “It wasn’t really the same after that. But I liked seeing them, y’know? A… well, sort of a memory of my parents.”

The president stood and wet his lips. “That probably sounds weird. Sorry.” He eyed Mako with a nervous grin as he tugged on his sleeves. “I guess I just—you’ve stuck with me longer than anyone else has, but I suppose you had to because—y’know, forget it.”

He began to shuffle away, turning his body to fit around his guard.

But Mako grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No, I get it.” His chin had been dipped and his face grim, but he lifted it to gaze at Wu with as much confidence as he could muster. “I lost my parents, too, and I didn’t have much to remember them by. There was my dad’s scarf, but I gave it away to my grandmother—look, it’s fine. You’re allowed to have emotions, y’know.”

Wu timidly met Mako’s firm stare. His brows furrowed, and his lips tightened before he weakly looked away. “I know that,” he said in what sounded close to a grouchy whine.

Mako’s grip on his arm loosened, but didn’t leave. He curled his fingers into the fabric of Wu’s sleeves with a touch of comfort. “I stayed with you because I wanted to.” Wu’s insistence to keep his eyes averted was challenged when Mako craned his neck to peer into his face. “Yeah, I know I didn’t at first, but I do now. And I’d never dream of leaving your side.”

He gave the sorrowful boy a smile. “Promise.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Wu gave in to his advances. Their eyes locked and remained locked in a silence that stretched longer than what was the norm for standard human interaction that... _didn't_ become weird. For Mako, though, he wasn’t even slightly uncomfortable. His hand dropped slowly to his side, but not without brushing over Wu’s for a duration that couldn’t have been on accident. It was the embarrassment at the thought that hit him not a second after.

“Uhh—”

“We should head back, huh?” Wu interrupted, even his own bright smile harboring some different emotions amounting to the red in his cheeks. “Before everyone starts worrying about us.”

Mako swallowed painfully and wiped his fingers over the back of his neck. “Well, you, mainly, but, umm—we can stay longer if you want.”

The president had already been moving to haul himself out of the river when Mako answered, but he hesitated the moment those words fell from his lips. He gradually pivoted on his heel, gazed at his bodyguard with every ounce of astonishment evident on his features.

Then he smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

And, by a series of severely unexpected events, Mako spent a good portion of the night seated beneath Ba Sing Se’s bridge, surrounded by turtle ducks and a prince-turned-president at his side.

He enjoyed every second of it.


	5. Cleansing the Kingdom

They were ushered out of the palace bright and early the next morning.

And many mornings after.

If the Dai Li were one thing, they were determined to stay on a tight schedule that Mako was positive had been set by Ju-long alone (without any input from Wu). They woke the new president early each day. Shuffled him out of Ba Sing Se in a private train car on the monorail, and boarded the train snaking through the Earth Kingdom to reach the cities and villages in need of a proper clean-up.

All in a day’s work, of course. They’d usually be back in the palace by nightfall, but late nights and early mornings did well in exhausting everyone involved.

It wasn’t like the job was all that strenuous, though. Kuvira had managed to deal with the pest problem before her unexpected reign, but that didn’t mean the villages were back in the proper order. Bandits still lurked in some. They had completely taken over others. But they were still just petty bandits.

A group of highly skilled agents and a firebending bodyguard were much more than they bargained for. Though the lowlifes were resilient and unwilling to back down, the right amount of force won each battle. They’d be pushed into returning what they stole. The citizens of the town would reclaim their homes and shops. President Wu would give one of his influential speeches to confirm the success of the Earth Kingdom’s future.

Everyone would clap, cheer, and go home happy.

It was the same thing wherever they went.

But it did well in reminding Mako of how good Wu’s communication skills were. As selfish and arrogant as he acted, he really did care about the well-being of his people. He listened to their concerns and responded with a proper dose of patience and compassion. No matter who the Earth Kingdom resident was, Wu treated him or her like they were a personal friend. And as often as Mako got to witness the exchanges by Wu’s side, they never ceased to impress him.

Honestly, the kid would’ve made a phenomenal king—probably the best one the kingdom had ever been ruled by. His demolition of the monarchy only stressed that point. As Wu’s personal guard and _friend,_ Mako was proud.

He just strictly assumed the flutter in his chest that occurred each time he witnessed Wu’s kindness was an effect of his swelling pride.

Nothing more.

Almost a week had passed since they began sweeping bandits and criminals out of clusters of villages nearest to Ba Sing Se’s walls. It was when their targets became establishments further out that plans had to be changed. And, predictably, Mako didn’t agree with what Ju-long had in mind for those changes.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Come now, Mako. Be rational.”

“ _I’m_ the one being irrational?” His voice rose considerably, and he took a step away from his station at Wu’s side to approach the Dai Li’s leader. “I am thinking of what’s safest for _him._ ” He pointed a stiff finger at the president, who was idly watching the argument in his seat.

Ju-long sighed impatiently. “How are the villages any less safe than the palace, pray tell? As long as the Dai Li and our usual troop of soldiers are with us, it’s just as safe as spending the night in Ba Sing Se.”

“Except the lack of walls offering extra protection. There are people out there that would love to see Wu dead, you realize that?”

“And some of those people live in the upper ring. No matter where he is, there is always the threat.”

Wu cleared his throat, lifted a hand to capture their attention. “Can we _not_ discuss possibilities of my assassination?

Turning his torso to face him, Ju-long dipped his head apologetically. “Yes, of course. You do know, President, that it would take a lot more time if we return to Ba Sing Se every night. If we took up refuge in the towns further out, we would complete this project a lot sooner. I assumed you wanted to proceed to separating the states as quickly as possible.”

“I think ensuring his safety is a bit more important than creating states,” Mako pointed out with a hard glare.

“Perhaps that is for him to decide, hm?” Ju-long quirked a brow, and he looked at Wu for guidance.

Wu leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms far above his head. The eyes of his quarreling companions were focused intently on him, but when he looked back and forth, his gaze stayed longer on Mako’s.

Mako shook his head, mouthed a subtle “no” that succeeded in furrowing the president’s brows. Then, Wu’s attention was focused on his lap.

“I think,” he began slowly, tone a clear hint of the uncertainty of his decision, “Ju-long is right.”

The smirk that crossed Ju-long’s face went unnoticed by Mako. The firebender was staring with disbelief at Wu, his stomach having constricted into tight knots. When he spoke, his voice cracked. “What? Wu, you—”

“If I recall, Mako”—Ju-long moved toward him with his hands folded behind his back—“you are President Wu’s personal bodyguard, not his adviser. I believe he is capable of making his own decisions.”

As if those decisions even _were_ his.

Mako’s lips curled as he glared into those pale, icy eyes in front of him. He said nothing, though. There was nothing _to_ say. The truth in Ju-long’s words, though condescending, couldn’t be argued. After all, who was he to question Wu’s choices? He had been a street rat once. Then a pro-bending star. A cop.

His job was to protect Wu in every scenario. There was no other area he was credible in. And Ju-long knew that as well as he did.

Regrettably, he backed down.

“It’ll be fine,” Wu had said.

“There will be guards at every entrance,” Ju-long had promised as they settled in for the night in an unfamiliar house in an even less familiar village.

Never had any of them been so wrong.

It _was_ fine at first. The day went the same as they always went. They showed up in the town, rounded up the bandits, calmed the tension resting within the residents, helped clean things up, and sent the prisoners back to Ba Sing Se with a handful of soldiers as their escorts.

When night fell, a house had been offered to the group. Whether or not it was actually owned by someone or just conveniently vacant wasn’t clear; everyone in the village was more than willing to offer about everything they had to the new president. They practically worshipped him at this point.

Wu, of course, got the biggest room on the upper floor. Mako bunked in the guest room alongside it (it had been insisted despite his efforts to sleep on the floor of Wu’s quarters). The Dai Li remained downstairs—well, most of them. Being the leader, Ju-long took up residence in a bedroom just down the hall.

Mako despised his close proximity, but that was the least of his problems.

He was probably the most restless in that single night than he had ever been. It took him what felt like hours to fall asleep (after turning over and rearranging his blankets every few minutes), and when he did, he blinked awake at regular intervals. With that in mind, it didn’t make much sense that he hadn’t been privy to that night’s events.

The obnoxiously early schedule Ju-long had created for them had put an internal clock in Mako’s body. He woke up before the sun was beating against his window’s curtains, the only indication of morning being the tentative chirps of a few birds whose only jobs seemed to be to wake people at absurd hours. Knowing there was no point in trying to fit in even a wink of extra sleep after his tiresome night, the firebender groggily slid out of bed and dressed himself for the day.

By the time he had brushed (and gelled) the messiness out of his hair, light had begun to peek through his curtains.

That was his cue to rouse Wu from his beauty sleep.

He knocked lightly on his door, waited for a moment in silence before speaking. “Wu? C’mon, we’ve gotta get going.” His knuckles rapped louder in his second attempt, and he offered the president some time to make himself presentable. In those moments, Mako should’ve noticed the quiet of the rest of the house—how none of the Dai Li were up and about.

“Wu.” He leaned in closer to listen for any movement within. “Okay, well, I’m coming in, so you better be dressed.”

A single turn of the knob. A gentle push. One glance.

And Mako’s heart had come to a dead halt.

The room was an utter mess. Drawers had been ransacked, the contents spread haphazardly across the floor. The curtains were torn down and ripped in various places. A draft was coming in through the open window, filling the room with cool morning air.

As for the bed…

Any indication that sheets had been tucked in at one point was the way they hung on by a single corner of the mattress; the rest were stretched across the floor toward the window. The corner closest to the open air was in wrinkles, as if someone had been clutching it for dear life.

And all of this came together to the most important detail of the unsettling scene.

Wu was gone.


	6. A Poor Excuse of a Bodyguard

“Idiot!” Mako hissed under his breath. He gripped his hair in clumps as his eyes did another quick sweep of the room.

There was no other explanation for the mess.

 _Kidnapped._ Wu had been kidnapped.

His mouth went dry when unpleasant thoughts circled through his head—worst possible scenarios haunting him to a state of nausea. Mako choked out the breath that hung in his throat, but the tightness in his chest didn’t leave. Wu could be anywhere. Locked up in a dungeon. Helplessly backed into a corner with nowhere to go and no one to protect him.

If he even _was_ alive.

Teeth clenched, Mako placed a palm on the nearest wall when so severe, so _dramatic_ of a conclusion leapt to the forefront of his mind. His fingers curled against the smooth surface, and a few breaths fell staggering. “No. He wouldn't—” The words came out in a croak, cut off as he pressed his lips together and firmly shook his head. There’d be no point considering the endless possibilities of Wu’s fate. Not until he discovered for certain that they were true.

With a great deal of effort that was only helped by a burst of exhilaration that coursed through his veins, the firebender stood upright and exited the room. He proceeded down the hallway with hands in white-knuckled fists, eyes narrowed. When he reached Ju-long’s quarters, he practically punched right through the door with how loud his knocks were.

“Ju-long!” He only offered the Dai Li agent a couple seconds to answer. “President Wu’s been kidnapped. We need to send out a search party _right now._ ” There was still no sound from within. Not even the slightest rustle of blankets.

With how little respect he had for Ju-long, he wasn’t even polite enough to casually open the door. No, when the long silence continued even after his frantic words, a growl rumbled through Mako’s throat. He lifted a foot, swung it forward with a burst of fire at his heel, and bashed the door to the ground in one swift kick.

“This is an emergency—”

But the room was empty.

In fact, now that Mako really thought about it, the entire house was eerily quiet. He only had to look over Ju-long’s quarters once to find nothing out of the ordinary, and when he stepped back out into the hall, he stood in dead silence—listened for a voice, a scuffle, a footstep, _anything._ There wasn’t even a draft to be felt from the open windows.

Mako’s heart jumped into his throat, and he inhaled sharply as he bounced on his heels and darted toward the staircase. Wu kidnapped. The Dai Li gone. He didn’t deem Ju-long to be the kind of person to make such a bold move, but the suspicions churning within him couldn’t be ignored.

The Dai Li had taken Wu. It _had_ to be them. Ju-long had finally took the turn against his leader. He had just had to wait for the opportune moment to do it.

Wu should never have been left alone.

Panic bubbled in Mako’s limbs, and he nearly fell down the stairs with how swiftly he vaulted over them. He grabbed onto the railing at the bottom to steer himself toward the door, his heart beating in his ears. As a detective and a cop, Mako probably should’ve realized that he really didn’t have any leads to take him anywhere. But none of that mattered.

He’d search the entire town—no, the entire _kingdom_ —to find Wu and bring him back safely.

If he still even had the chance to do so.

When he burst into the early morning light, his attention darted back and forth over the houses surrounding him. It was only when his own breaths became quieter that he noticed the lack of activity even among the rest of the town.

Everyone was just… gone.

He swallowed hard, the dryness of his throat causing a dull ache, and walked briskly along the dirt path. His brows were furrowed with bewilderment, though the way his eyes stayed as wide as saucers was a good indicator of his being persistently alert. None of it made any sense. Kidnapping Wu. Evacuating the entire town in the process.

What was Ju-long up to?

Mako had been walking in that shocked stupor for what seemed like ages before he neared the edge of the village. And it was at that moment that signs of life reached his ears. Scuffling footsteps, muffled chatter, and a few horrified gasps filled the previously still air. He didn’t hesitate to break into a jog to find the source of the commotion (and perhaps some answers in the process).

What he found was a crowd. One small glimpse of the cluster of citizens at the town’s edge and Mako decided the entirety of the town was congregated in that one area. He craned his neck and pursed his lips as he tried to see past them—where all of their eyes were focused—but ended up having to weasel his way through whatever gaps were available.

“Hey,” he barked (probably ruder than necessary) in an attempt to grab someone’s attention. “What’s going on? Move! You’re all blocking the way.”

No one heard him. Or, if they did, they were blatantly ignoring it. Mako realized not a moment later that one voice was speaking loudly over the rest of them: a single, authoritative holler that drowned out the efforts of anyone else to speak.

“Everyone, _please_ step to the side. Give us some space. Thank you.”

He recognized it, all right. He could put a face to that tone without hearing more than a single syllable, and it sent a flare of hatred through his body like burning flames. Mako was soon shoving his way to the front regardless of who he bumped or knocked over.

Coming face-to-face with Ju-long had been expected and prepared for.

The Dai Li leader inclined his neck when met with Mako’s fierce glower, the rest of the group having parted obediently at his command. “A little late, aren’t you?” Ju-long remarked, though there was no trace of a smirk this time around. “Step aside, ‘bodyguard.’ There is no help you can offer now.”

Though taken aback by his choice of words, Mako didn’t show it. He stood rigidly in place, a few licks of fire dancing around his fists. “Where. Is. Wu?”

“The president? Fancy that you’re so dreadfully interested in his well-being. I imagine you noticed his ransacked room when you woke after your peaceful rest last night.”

Mako was just about ready to scar that face of his with a burst of fire when Ju-long took a single step to the side to reveal what had previously been hidden behind him. And then his stomach performed a sickening flip.

There, very much alive, was the boy he had been looking for. The former prince. The newly appointed president. The very person he was meant to be protecting with his life.

_Wu._

He should’ve been relieved to see him, really. Mako had been fearing the worst—had been fearing what steps he’d have to take to locate the kidnapped president and how long it would take to do so. Seeing Wu standing here before him should’ve taken the weight off of his shoulders.

But it didn’t.

Because Wu was _not_ okay.

His clothes were tattered, ripped all the way down to his dark flesh. Cuts and bruises decorated what skin could be seen, one particularly nasty blotch of purple along his left cheek. His weight was being supported by a Dai Li agent at his side: right where Mako usually was, and right where he should have been.

When his green gaze weakly focused on Mako’s, his heart snapped in two.

He looked miserable. Even the slightest attempt at a smile was painful to watch—though probably more agonizing for Wu to endeavor. Mako wanted to rush in and take him from the Dai Li’s hands, but his legs had become lead. He was frozen.

“How did—What happened?”

Ju-long folded his arms, an unimpressed glower on his face. “I thought that was obvious enough. He was kidnapped in the dead of night—taken by some bandits who had escaped our notice the day before.”

“But that’s… that can’t—How did I not hear it?”

“A very good question to be asking, indeed.” The leader stepped away from his agents and flicked his wrist to motion them toward the path. “See that President Wu’s wounds are tended to.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. The agent holding Wu up adjusted his grip on the boy’s arm, murmured something inaudible into his ear, and began to carefully lead him through the village with a few other Dai Li on his flank. Those that remained glanced to their leader for guidance.

“The rest of you, make sure the bandits are dealt with. I want those who brought our president harm to be put into the deepest dungeons of Ba Sing Se for their actions.”

Mako had been regrettably watching Wu go when he heard Ju-long’s statement. His attention whipped back to the Dai Li’s leader, expression hardening considerably. “Who did that to him?”

Sighing impatiently, Ju-long strode past Mako. “A bandit. Who else?”

Mako’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, sweeping over the Dai Li who had been given the task to deal with the abusive kidnappers. Anger flickered in his heart, but he stifled his vengeful thoughts to instead follow Ju-long. “But why would they hurt him? What did they want with him?”

“I don’t know.” Ju-long came to an abrupt halt and turned to face Mako with a stern glare. “All I know is that Wu is safe, now. His wounds will be taken care of, and I will provide better security from here on out. There is no point in dwelling on events that have already passed.”

“These events wouldn’t have happened if we had just stayed in Ba Sing Se like I suggested,” Mako snapped.

“Or perhaps Wu’s capture could have been prevented had you attended to your duties as is expected of you.”

That struck him. It felt like a blow to the stomach, and one so expertly placed that he actually staggered a few paces back. That was his duty, after all: to protect Wu. To keep him from harm. To _save_ him from whatever harm came to him. He had failed at all of that within a single night, and the very people he had despised were the ones to bring him home safely.

But he covered up every ounce of that remorse with more fury than before.

“I _wanted_ to stay in his room with him! It was my duty to—”

“Honestly, Mako, what do you plan on gaining from this?” Ju-long’s voice was infuriatingly calm compared to the passion etched into Mako’s. “What’s done is done. Wu got hurt, regrettably, but there is nothing we can do to change what has already happened. All that we _can_ do is ensure that it doesn’t happen again. Are you not at least pleased that he is safe?”

“Well, yeah, of course—”

“Then perhaps you ought to be thanking the people who brought him back alive, not yelling at them.”

Mako’s lips formed a tight line when met with the expectant look that followed those words. He averted his gaze, released an agitated exhale that resonated in the air long after it left his lungs. As much as he hated to admit it, Ju-long _did_ deserve even just a pinch of gratitude. Mako was just too proud to be willing to offer it.

“Very well,” Ju-long continued after a short silence had followed. “It is the duty of the Dai Li to protect their ruler, naturally. I suppose no thanks are in order.”

He lifted his chin, continued down the path with his back rigid and his steps so graceful that he almost looked to be gliding. “I can only guess you are dying to see President Wu in the amount of devotion that you’ve shown—well, at least up until this debacle.” Ju-long cast a glance back. “But I advise that you allow him his rest before you barge in. He had a very rough night. And after witnessing your lack of attendance, he might not be so pleased to see you.”

Dread settled heavily in the firebender’s stomach, his gaze focused solely on the ground as Ju-long’s statement echoed through his mind.

“In short, Mako, take my advice: Show up where you’re needed, but keep your nose out of places where you’re not.”

And though he should’ve been furious about those last blatantly demeaning words, he wasn’t. As he uncertainly raised his head to watch the Dai Li’s leader proceed toward the house Wu was being guided to, the only emotion twisting through every fiber of his being was guilt.


	7. Diving into the Deep

He regretted to admit that he spent the rest of the day deliberately avoiding Wu. It wasn’t like it was difficult—the president had been confined to his room under the care of a healer—but Mako spent every minute away from that house. Rather, he didn’t give himself a chance to even _look_ at the house. Sticking to the streets and busying himself with tasks and chores from the villagers was what kept him away until nightfall.

And even then, he was half-tempted to sleep in one of the alleys just like old times.

Why he felt so much guilt, Mako wasn’t sure. He reminded himself on countless intervals during the day that it hadn’t been his fault. No matter what Ju-long said, it wasn’t like _he_ had been the one to hurt Wu. Sure, it was his job to protect him. Sure, it was ridiculous that he somehow managed to sleep through the attack, but how could he have prevented that?

Wu was okay now. Well, safe, at the very least. And Mako had pledged to be more aware of his surroundings—to guarantee that nothing so horrible would happen to the boy ever again. If anyone or anything worse ever got a hold of Wu… Mako shuddered just at the thought. It had been bad enough to see him as battered and bruised as he was earlier that day.

He couldn’t look at that face again. He didn’t want to be reminded of the injuries: the injuries indicating some form of torture that had been endured. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to face Wu again until he was healed, but Mako knew that he could only stay away for so long. He couldn’t hope for some method of forgetting what had happened.

His stomach was twisting and churning when he approached the bedroom door that night.

As promised, more protection had been offered by Ju-long’s agents. He had posted two at each entrance, and several at the back of the building where Wu’s window was. There was even one right at the top of the stairs, and he arched a brow at Mako as he wearily strolled past. Thankfully, the long pause Mako took as he stood before Wu’s door hadn’t been questioned.

Heart pounding relentlessly in his chest, he raised a quivering hand in a fist to knock, hesitated with his knuckles centimeters away from the smooth wood. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t subject himself to the heartbreak of seeing his friend in such a state.

But there was also no avoiding it.

Mako heaved out an unsteady sigh, one that contained a tiny whine he hoped had gone unheard by the Dai Li agent. His knuckles made contact with Wu’s door, and he gained enough confidence to knock three solid times. When he tried to speak, though, it came out in a weak rasp. “Wu. Hey—” He smoothed his fingers down, pressed his palm against the surface almost as a means of supporting his weight. “Can I come in?”

Silence followed. The longer Mako waited for a response, the heavier his heart felt. His hands dropped to his sides, his breaths came weak and shallow, and the firebender was about to leave without a second attempt when the handle rattled. He didn’t have to look up to know who stood in the doorway before him.

“Mako.” Wu’s voice was gentle, lacking its usual flair. “I was hoping you’d stop by.”

It took Wu saying his name for Mako to reluctantly lift his gaze. The green eyes staring back at him still lacked that familiar light, and the bruising on his face seemed lighter due to the healer’s work. He stood with his weight swung onto one leg, the way he held the other one proof that it had been injured amongst everything else. Just that glimpse was enough for Mako to lose himself.

He choked out the breath he had been holding, ducking his chin as he shook his head with disdain. “I’m sorry, Wu.” Mako’s shoulders hunched as his hands formed fists. “I’m _so_ sorry they did this to you.”

There was a sting in his eyes, one that forced him to squeeze them shut. “I should’ve been able to prevent it. I should’ve been the one to find you and bring you back. It should’ve been _me,_ not—” His jaw clenched. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you. I couldn’t— _can’t_ —”

It had been a mix of his breath hitching and Wu’s hand on his shoulder that stopped him. That single touch brought him back to the present: gentle, affectionate, and sending a wave of strength through his feeble body. If not for that, he wouldn’t have been able to glance up a second time.

And see that face smiling back at him.

“I’m fine, Mako.” His other hand found Mako’s opposite shoulder, and Wu used his grip to guide him into the room. “Look at me.” After closing the door, the president took a few wobbly steps away and held out his arms to display himself. “I’m not as weak as everyone thinks.”

When he began to sway on the spot, though, Mako hurried forward to hold him steady. His frown deepened, and he led him back toward the ruffled sheets of his bed. Wu didn’t seem to have the energy to argue.

“Wu—”

“If you’re apologizing again, I don’t want to hear it.” He scooted onto the mattress, rested his back against the headboard.

“But, it’s my job to protect you,” Mako insisted from where he stood.

“Your _job?_ ” Wu pursed his lips and lifted a brow. “Well, fine, then. If it’s your job, you succeeded because I am _fine._ Not dead, right?”

“No, that’s not—”

“Sit with me.” The boy shuffled to the side to allow Mako more room. “Please.”

Deciding he’d rather not start an argument that wouldn’t end in his favor, Mako released a soft sigh and awkwardly climbed onto the mattress alongside him. Wu had only offered a sufficient amount of space, small enough that the boy had every reason to be pressed against him. Strangely enough, Mako wasn’t bothered by it.

The warmth of Wu’s body against his helped him relax.

“I’m going to stay in here with you from now on,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, paying no mind to the way Wu snuggled up to him. It was hard to ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks, though. “I can’t risk a repeat of… well, y’know.”

Letting out a long exhale, Wu lifted his head to look at Mako directly. “Don’t be absurd, Mako. You don’t have to—”

“ _Yes,_ I do,” Mako barked, the tension returning to his body as he sat upright. He weaseled out of Wu’s grip, turned his back on him as he swung his legs over the bed’s edge and glared at the opposite wall. “I can’t… Wu, you don’t understand. I thought you had—I thought that—” A frustrated sigh fell from his lips as he clenched the mattress underneath.

Wu shifted behind him, crawling to kneel at his side. He leaned forward to gaze upon the firebender’s face. “You know I don’t blame you for what happened, right?”

Mako’s lips tightened into a line, and he forced his gaze away despite Wu’s efforts to make eye contact. “ _You_ might not, but I—Wu, if _anything_ worse had happened to you…” A pain struck through his chest when he voiced his thoughts aloud. It didn’t even occur to him how much Wu meant.

How losing Wu meant losing a part of himself.

There was a calm quiet initially. Wu had returned to resting his weight against Mako, likely using his poor physical state as an excuse to be close to him. Their hands brushed over each other, and that small touch spread static through Mako’s body—helped to remind him that Wu was here beside him: _alive._

“To think that after all this time, you’d come to like me,” Wu broke the silence with a light laugh. “When you used to hate me.”

The firebender blinked once with surprise and visibly straightened. “Hate? That’s… a strong word. I—”

“Thank you, Mako.”

“For what?”

Mako had turned his head to look upon his face—to search for some meaning behind those words. His eyes were distant, though, staring across the room with a faint smile at the corners of his lips.

“You stayed with me,” Wu explained as he met Mako’s gaze. “No one else ever did.”

His heart stopped, and his breath hooked in his lungs. He hadn’t even the words to reply to him. “Wu—” But it turned out he didn’t need any.

An unexpected warmth enveloped his lips, Wu’s face now a blur with how close he had gotten. He felt a set of fingers wrap around his hand and squeeze, which only worked in distracting him from what was happening for a moment longer. Instinctively, Mako tore away from the kiss as soon as his brain caught up with the sensations.

His throat released a sharp exhale, and he inclined his neck to maintain the distance between them as he stared incredulously at the boy next to him. Wu’s eyes had snapped open, looking shocked for that one moment before he shuffled back nervously.

“S-sorry! That was—guess I should dip my toes in the shallow water before I just go diving into the deep—”

It took just that second for Mako to miss their previous proximity.

He interrupted Wu with his own initiation of a kiss, brought his hand up to rest it tenderly on the cheek that didn’t have a bruise splotched across it. The returned sign of affection acted as encouragement for the other. Wu wasted no time in closing the distance between them, his arms finding their way around Mako’s middle and pulling him nearer.

Kissing. The two were on Wu’s bed—a man of royalty and his bodyguard— _kissing._ At any earlier point of his career, Mako would’ve been cringing at the mere thought of it. But sitting here with Wu’s body nearly flushed against his did well in pushing all quarrelsome thoughts away.

Mako actually _liked_ it.

He was met with a wave of disappointment when Wu slowly pulled away, and the firebender leaned to follow after the lips that had left him. When he caught himself, he regained his posture, embarrassment catching up with him as a blush heated his face. Mako tucked his chin and moved to settle against the headboard.

“Uhh—”

A sparkle of amusement flickered within Wu’s gaze—a gleam that had been missing since his kidnapping. Seeing the way it lit up his face sent a relieved calm through Mako’s veins. “So you _do_ like me.” Wu navigated across Mako’s lap to lay at his side. “I knew it.”

He was answered with an indignant snort. “Only a bit.”

Wu hummed softly as he wriggled beneath the sheets and draped an arm over Mako’s stomach. “You’re allowed to have emotions, y’know.” He glanced up at the firebender with a smirk.

“I know.”

“Then stop being so stoic.”

Mako let his head fall back, his attention focused on the blank ceiling above them. How his day had gone from panic to romance was beyond him; it seemed rather silly when he really considered the mix of seemingly unrelated events. “I’m not. I just—I didn’t know—” He made an irritated groan in spite of himself. “Look, you know I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

The puff of air that came from Wu’s nose indicated the beginning of a laugh. “It was a kiss, Mako. Well, _two_ actually—wow, look at us go—”

“What’s your point?”

“My point _is_ you need to loosen up a bit. Take it in stride.” Wu stretched out his legs, the cringe that came from his injuries not going unnoticed no matter how slight it was. “I mean, I’ve kissed _hundreds_ of—”

“Yeah, we’re done here.” Mako rolled his eyes and slid into the blankets. He tucked an arm beneath his head, releasing a yawn.

“Oh, you’re staying for the night?”

There wasn’t even a hesitation to reply. “Yeah. And every night after.” Mako peeked down at the boy with his brows arched. “Problem?”

Wu grinned.

“Not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a drill, guys! It happened!   
> This chapter marks the last of my "written four years ago" chapters--next chapter is a more recent "written within the last two years" chapter. How exciting. :'D  
> Made some edits when I reread this; some things felt a bit awkward. I hope it read okay!
> 
> Thanks again for everyone sticking around! Still have plenty more to go, I promise. There's some supreme fishiness with the Dai Li that Mako's gonna have to work out ;)
> 
> 'til next time!!


	8. On the Floor

It was the first night Mako slept well in a long time.

At least, it _must_ have been, considering he was not roused for any reason until it was well into the morning, and by a sharp rapping on the door instead of what had become habitual. He might as well have not rested in ages, how groggy he was. Even the knocking that cut into his slumber remained distant as if shrouded in clouds.

But he finally found himself groaning in recognition—a feeble effort to announce to the disturbance he was _working_ on getting to them—and shifted to slide out of the blankets.

Only to discover it was more than just those blankets he was having to untangle himself from.

Bemused, the firebender rubbed sleep from his eyes. He peered down at the space in the bed beside him: a discernible lump in the bedsheets. Slow as his brain worked to catch up with when and where he was, Mako had to pull back the covers for it all to _click_.

And his face to be overcome with a swath of red.

“President Wu!”

A voice now accompanied the knuckles on the other side of the door, and surely a mix of hearing his name and Mako tugging out of his embrace finally woke him. Just as sluggish as his bodyguard, Wu began to rise from his slumber, but by then, Mako had already escaped. Stumbled onto the floor. And realized how much more _difficult_ it was to get dressed when in a rush spawned from embarrassment.

Embarrassment over _what_ , he had yet to grasp. An instinctive shyness for all intimate encounters such as that in which he had found himself? A worry over being _caught_ , perhaps? Bodyguard and royalty sharing the same warmth beneath a bed’s blankets? _Nestled together?_

Whatever it was, the struggle he endured in something as simple as slipping his arms through the sleeves of his coat was on Wu levels of pathetically incapable of _dressing_ himself.

Mako cast a fleeting look toward the muffled voice outside the room—Ju-long’s, he recognized without a moment’s thought—before pointedly meeting Wu’s eye. He jerked his head at the door when Wu’s gaze came into focus on his. Once. Twice. In which the boy did nothing but blink in his tired stupor.

Clearly Mako wasn’t the only one who had slept a little _too_ well.

“Permission to enter, President?”

Mako spit out a hushed, “ _Wu!_ ”

At that precise second did the president find his bearings and eventually react as he should. “Do I have a choice? I was _asleep_ , y’know,” he called back, the tail-end of his statement lifting into a yawn he didn’t even attempt to stifle. “And still injured!”

The initial pause answering him proved Ju-long wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

“Yes. Many apologies, sir, but we hoped to get you back to Ba Sing Se as swiftly as possible after, ah—yesterday’s _events_.”

Wu pouted at the closed door despite not being seen (by anyone other than Mako, who _still_ was tripping over his own clothes trying to be presentable), and he folded his arms indignantly over his chest while sitting up. “Very good. You may enter.”

And that was exactly what the Dai Li agent had been waiting for. He wasted no time in turning the handle (his fingers must have already been resting on it) and stepping inside as permitted. Though he came to a complete halt when he caught sight of the other unexpected presence in the vicinity.

Mako had thankfully just finished straightening out his attire.

“Mako.” Ju-long, however surprised as he had been, recovered in the blink of an eye. His arms tucking neatly behind his back, he regarded the firebender with a quirked brow. “I hadn’t been expecting you.”

“Yeah, uh—” Mako’s attention drifted sideways. “I was just—”

Wu breached the confusion.

“Good ol’ Mako spent the night with me!”

Much to said bodyguard’s dismay.

A warmer heat like the very flames his fingers manipulated spread to his ears, and his eyebrows endeavored to disappear beneath his hairline at the casually stated claim. He saw the perplexed look on Ju-long’s face as he glanced between the two of them, the suspicion evident in the crinkle between his brows creating a churn at the pit of his stomach.

“I slept on the floor,” he blurted for clarification.

In which _Wu_ was the one staring at him like he was crazy now, but he had a better time ignoring _that_.

Ju-long pressed his lips into a thin line before nodding. “I see.” He looked at Wu. “Are you well enough to walk?”

Something in his tone became colder along with his countenance. Detached, but still frustrated all the same; the Dai Li agent’s hands were fidgeting in their clasp at the small of his back, that which Mako only noticed due to the slightest movement of his shoulders.

“We’re never just going to sit still, are we?” Wu remarked, and though a response that seemed irritated, he flashed Ju-long a smile.

The uncomfortable quiet his words induced caused him to say more.

“Of course! Mako can help me out if I can’t.”

Strange, how his smile seemed so _empty_ when directed at the Dai Li yet so full of _life_ the instant it fell on his bodyguard.

“Right, tough guy?”

Mako had only glanced at him briefly, having become far more interested in the way Ju-long’s façade was shriveling by the second. So much stiffer, the man had become, mouth pursing tighter, brows twitching as if struggling to keep from furrowing with anger, and his forced calm just conspicuous enough by the erratic shake in his chest.

All the wariness Mako held for him at the start thickened into something new at the display. Any trace of gratefulness, however _small_ , for rescuing the kidnapped president the day before was whisked away by a frigid chill.

“Of course,” Ju-long drawled through his teeth.

The smile _he_ directed at the president’s bodyguard was more openly sinister than any before.

A tingle sprouted at the base of Mako’s neck.

“When you’re ready, then, President.” The agent bowed low as he backed out the door. “The Dai Li will take you home.”

Mako watched him carefully as he left, catching the icy glint in his eyes as he closed the door after him. And that tingle spread to every inch of his body. He visibly _shuddered_.

But Wu was there to be as painfully oblivious to the tension as usual.

“Mak _oooo_.”

He may have said his name more than once, what with how whiny the tone in which Mako finally heard it fell. Mako tore himself from his frozen trance, and he peered over to the boy making grabbing motions in the air toward him. No different than a toddler asking for a piggyback ride.

“So, I take it you _can’t_ walk on your own, then?”

Within a sigh, Mako wandered over. He bent to scoop him up, snaking his arms beneath Wu’s while he felt a pair drape over his neck. Further support, no doubt. But if anyone was full of surprises, it was Wu.

In the split second it took the firebender to adjust his grip accordingly, Wu had taken advantage of their position. Smiling enough that Mako caught it even as their faces came close, he planted a warm peck to his lips (not without a dramatized _mwah!_ ).

And Mako reacted as much like a startled animal as he had the first time it happened.

“Gotcha,” the little devil sing-songed.

He wasn’t sure where his attitude came from— _why_ the kiss sprung forth a rush of irritation—but Mako immediately recoiled. Nose wrinkled, he stepped away from the bedside, and only then realized the messiness of his hair when he threaded his fingers through it.

Wu didn’t budge from his spot. But his pinched lips could be seen in the mirror as Mako began fussing with his haggard appearance. He simply pretended not to notice.

Which proved successful until Wu saw fit to pry.

“ _Someone’s_ grumpy this morning.”

“I’m _not_ ,” he all but grumbled back, searching the vanity for the gel supply he knew Wu used.

“Mm-hm. _Right_. Because if you _were_ grumpy, you’d act like I just slapped you across the face instead of kissing you.”

Their eyes met in the reflection.

Mako shook his head. “That’s got nothing to do with—” His words were split by a long exhale, and he bought himself time by feigning concentration on the state of his hair.

Expectant of more to come, Wu didn’t say a word (miraculous as it was for him to ever be quiet). Mako couldn’t help wishing for once that he _would_ speak. If even just to keep him from being held responsible for explaining his newfound abrasiveness after a night of _close-quarters_. But silence stretched on, and once he had finished patting his hair down, he had nothing left to distract him.

“Wu,” he began, but didn’t turn around. Still, he stared at that face through the mirror. “Do you have _any_ idea what’s going on?”

The boy blinked back at him and tilted his head. “Meaning—?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Another pout.

“Mako, what’s gotten _into_ you? You were so”—his expression softened—“ _sweet_ last night. Did something happen between then and now?”

Mako’s brows stitched, and he heaved out a deep breath before uncovering a new distraction. Rummaging through the drawers for Wu’s clothing, “Nothing’s… _changed_ , it’s just—”

“Okay, then—no, I want the emerald coat—”

Mako stowed away what he had previously pulled out.

“—why all the _doom and gloom_ all of the sudden?”

The deep green garments of Wu’s choosing were draped over his bodyguard’s arm as he wandered back to the bed. He held out a hand to the ex-prince, easily helping him to his feet and watching him like a hawk in case he stumbled.

“How’re you feeling?”

Granting a pathetic look, “Don’t change the subject, mister. If you think you can pull the wool over my eyes—”

“But I _can_!” Exasperated, the statement tore through his lips, and even when Wu paused in sliding into his clothes, habit kept Mako’s hands busy. “ _Anyone_ can, Wu. You just—you don’t pay attention to _anything_ going on around you or the consequences of anything you do; do you realize how _exhausting_ that is?”

The president’s demeanor shifted.

While Mako tugged his coat over his shoulders, fastened his buttons, Wu fell entirely still. He stared at his bodyguard wordlessly. Mako didn’t pay enough attention to notice the passing hurt in his eyes.

The quiet laugh that finally acted as a reply was hollow.

“Alright.” As was per usual in their relationship, Mako had moved to tie the cravat at Wu’s neck. But Wu gently pulled away, ushering the fingers lingering at his collar back down. A soft utterance of “I can do it,” and he began fussing with the cloth on his own.

Mako only officially retracted his hands to himself when he became aware of the way they still hung on Wu’s coat.

Only then did he catch himself a bit _too_ late.

His shoulders slackened. “Wu, that’s not…” He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I know.” Wu sidled around him and approached the mirror where Mako had previously stood. “And you’re right! I should think of my actions more.” He lifted a brow and found the firebender’s reflection. “Such as the kisses, right?”

“Wait, what?”

“That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

Mako inclined his neck, glanced off toward the door Ju-long had slithered out of. “Uh—I don’t think—not… _really—_?”

Wu straightened out his cravat (which truly surprised Mako, his ability to manage it so perfectly on his own; so perhaps he _didn’t_ need him), and he leaned forward to better look at the purpling along his jaw.

“No, no. It’s okay, Mako.” A finger traced gingerly along the wound. “A president and his personal bodyguard having an _affair_? Ludicrous. Imagine the headlines. No, you’re absolutely right.”

It was Mako’s turn to be speechless. And every wish he once held for Wu to be the one talking was crushed all over again. Not out of annoyance, no. Or any desire for some peace and quiet for once. This time, Mako’s desperation spawned from elsewhere.

Panic, almost. Like it took Wu voicing those concerns aloud for Mako to have ever even considered them. And they were the _least_ of his problems.

As if he cared what anyone had to say about him—

But _Wu?_

“So, loyal bodyguard it is, then, right?” Wu meandered back over to him, inklings of a smirk, though dull and detached, curving one side of his mouth.

No, he didn’t want _this._ He hadn’t even known he wanted the _opposite_ until the night before, but how fast these things could happen. How difficult it could be to keep up.

Wu came close again. Too close. With a strange glint in his eye, the young president cocked his head and rocked on his heels, fingers twined behind his back. His face was at a distance that already bred exhilaration in the firebender, hanging mere inches away and driving him mad in so much of a contrast to his retreat from earlier.

Neither moved for a moment.

But just when Mako was _considering_ a move that’d obliterate the distance between them, Wu pulled his neck back.

“Good boy.”

He tapped Mako’s chin and spun to make an exit.

“The Dai Li are waiting, aren’t they?” Wu opened the door, gaze venturing back to the firebender still frozen in place. “Let’s not test their patience.”

Then he was gone.

Leaving his poor bodyguard in a hopeless confusion that prevented him from moving for many minutes passed.

And a stupor that would last even longer.


	9. Good Boy

Wu had the capacity to be absolutely _nasty_ , Mako soon discovered.

Always seeming to be on the clueless side, it came as a surprise, and one that threw the bodyguard through head-spinning loops from the very moment his behavior changed: The deliberate distance set between them even when walking side-by-side; Wu insisting on sitting across from Mako when they boarded the train, and pointedly directing his focus out the window; shooing the firebender away when his healers came by to check on him, providing them more space that robbed any room for Mako.

This was just punishment. No other rhyme or reason. Mako had pissed him off with his broody thoughts—with his apparent inability to just keep his mouth shut (and he thought Wu was the one who needed to pipe down)—and now he was paying for it. Truly childish. He wished he could ignore it, knowing Wu’s tantrum would eventually ebb.

But the president wouldn’t be doing any of this if it was easy to ignore.

He _wanted_ his personal guard to suffer for his actions.

And he did.

Mako stood in the aisle as the pair of healers tended to the president’s wounds, watching the familiar glow of water envelop various cuts and bruises. He had the brunt of his weight pressed to edge of the closest seat’s backrest, legs crossed at his ankles to match folded arms. Deeming the sight uninteresting after a short while, his attention began to wander.

Likely in search of a _distraction_ , should he hope to not lament this morning’s quarrel for the remainder of the day.

The Dai Li’s leader situated quietly at the very back of the train car caught his eye, and just then did it occur to him: how _passive_ Ju-long had been the entire ride thus far. No attempts to weasel into the seat next to Wu and bombard him with further plots. No snide retorts at Mako’s expense masked under a saccharine smile.

He just _sat_ there.

Staring out the window.

With an entirely unreadable expression.

Mako had yet to decide if he preferred that over the usual condescension that carried his every breath.

But at least with _that_ behavior, he made it easy to know just where he stood. Mako was starting to lose any real grip he had of him, and therefore endured a greater unease that bubbled in his gut in his attempts to figure him out. Now, that chill always felt in his presence was crafted by something he couldn’t even put his finger on.

And it drove him insane.

Insane enough, it would seem, to willingly approach the snake.

He had cast one last look at Wu (in good hands, literally) before straightening up and walking over to where Ju-long was seated. Hands neat in his lap. Piercing eyes reflecting faintly off the window. Mako had to gently clear his throat to get his attention.

In which the agent turned to meet his gaze with fresh ice in his own.

“Can I assist you?”

Mako didn’t miss a beat. “Mind if we talk?”

A detectable curiosity washed over Ju-long’s expression, but one that faded as promptly as it came. “I don’t believe my ‘minding’ it will change the result.” He again directed his attention to the landscape rushing by. After a short pause, he gestured for Mako to take a seat.

Mako almost murmured a “thanks,” but he concluded he didn’t respect the man enough to give him the pleasure. Or acknowledge that conversing with him was a pleasure at all.

No, it was nothing more than a necessity at this point.

“Pleasantries aside”—the firebender sat down and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees—“I wanted to ask you about the kidnapping.”

“Oh?” Ju-long proceeded not to look at him.

“ _Yes._ No one’s told me anything and I’ve got questions—”

“You want to know why no one has told you anything, Mako?”

Mako creased his brows. Already, that irritation spawned by just _looking_ at Ju-long began prickling within him again, and he forced his fingers to remain loose despite their inclination to form fists.

“I’ll take that as a youth finally letting his elder speak.” Ju-long peered at him, then. He twisted his torso, one hand rising to graze lithe fingers along a smooth chin. “How civil of you.” Crossing his legs, “There’s nothing _to_ tell you, President Wu’s personal guard or not. The matter is handled. You weren’t there to handle it, unfortunate of a circumstance as that is, but we’ve addressed that already, have we not?”

He cocked his head. Mako’s lip twitched.

“So, if this is a meager effort to regain some sort of honor for yourself, I would advise you not waste your breath.”

“I said I had _questions_ ,” Mako reiterated with a tight jaw. “Are you going to let me ask them?”

“That depends. Was that your first?”

Ju-long was enjoying this, now. His foul mood, whatever may have caused it, was temporarily remedied by the apparent satisfaction he got from tormenting the firebender, and had they not been in the company of others, Mako wouldn’t have hesitated to punch that smirk right off his smug face.

For now, though, he’d cooperate.

“Where did you find him?”

Previous delight was marred by a bored sigh. “In an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. The basement of said house, rather.”

“And you said it was by a group of bandits, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Did you catch them?”

“Obviously.”

He looked to have grown weary of the topic already, having received no _amusing_ reaction from the bodyguard. While his body slackened in his seat and his head tilted back toward the window, Mako contrasted his posture by stiffening. He scooted forward and clasped his hands in front of himself.

“So where are they now?”

_That_ brought him back.

Ju-long faced Mako again, lifting his chin to regard him down the length of his nose. “What concern is that to you?”

“It’s a big concern actually,” Mako retorted. “And I _thought_ you were raised to be polite enough to answer my question before asking one.”

That smile returned, ominous and condescending as was typically anticipated. “Well-played.” The agent rested a hand on the side of his face. “I should expect nothing less of one of Lin Beifong’s best.” What may have sounded like a compliment in anyone else’s voice was no more than demeaning in his.

“They’re locked away, of course. Transported to the prisons of Ba Sing Se immediately upon their capture yesterday morning.” Ju-long flicked his fingers like shooing a fly from his ear. “Does this please you?”

“Who was their leader?”

“Hm?”

“There had to have been _someone_ organizing it all. He’s locked up, too?”

The pause was longer than it should have been, considering the question Mako assumed to have simple enough of an answer. But Ju-long lapsed into a lull after hearing it, one in which his gaze held Mako’s with a look as undecipherable as the start.

Mako forced himself not to fidget under that leer. He fought the frigid claws nagging at his nape, ignoring the way they almost brought upon a wave of trembles in his shoulders. How he despised what this man could accomplish in only a glance.

But he held firm nonetheless.

Because if fire did anything, it sure as hell melted _ice_.

Ju-long’s lashes shadowed his pallor when he peered downward, whether knowingly giving Mako a respite or not. “ _She_ , actually.” His answer eventually tore through the silence. “And yes. By herself. Our little”—a grin slithered across his mouth—“ _special_ prisoner, if you will.”

Mako had absolutely no interest in (or fleeting desire to know) what qualified as a “special prisoner” in Ju-long’s vocabulary. His face may have pinched at the slightest backward thought, though one efficiently buried by his own motives for ever approaching the agent in the first place.

He had all the information he needed.

“I do wonder—”

In the middle of standing without excusing himself, Ju-long’s continuing the conversation stalled him.

“—just what it is you plan on doing with that knowledge.”

Mako looked back.

Now it was Ju-long perched forward on his seat, head cushioned delicately upon the nest his fingers provided by an elbow rooted on his knee. Legs still crossed, the foot not touching the ground began to bob—almost juvenile and playful.

“There’s nothing to tell you, sir,” the firebender mocked in as much of a replication of Ju-long’s tone as he could manage. “Think of it as no more than providing some peace of mind.”

A deliberate look ended their correspondence. Equally matched, the malevolent smirks their weapons in this battle. But Mako had learned on more than one occasion what allowing any sort of cockiness could reap.

He should’ve known thinking for the smallest second that he was one step ahead of the Dai Li was dangerous. Doomed to give him false hope.

He should have _known_.

As he sidled out into the aisle, Ju-long ended up making the last quip. No, an _observation_ , really. And that which shocked Mako into freezing mid-step in his retreat.

“My, my,” he had said, all the while retaining his posture, his loose demeanor giving all signs of his seeing the firebender as little threat. A finger tapped his cheek. He slowly canted his head.

“Quite the ‘good boy,’ indeed.”

Mako’s blood ran cold.

His face betrayed him, how his jaw fell slack and his eyes shot open.

But he refused to look back again. Refused to give Ju-long even further satisfaction in witnessing his sheer horror head-on. So hastily did he lock his feet into submission and hurry away before the agent could say any more.

He didn’t have to.

Mako felt that stare slicing right into his core all the way back to Wu’s side.

And, for the first time, even that provided no comfort.


	10. So You Wanna Play with Fire

“Where is she?”

At the beginning of this all, it never would have crossed Mako’s mind to leave Wu’s side. _Never._ Not for a minuscule heartbeat. Dating back to the very day he received his assignment to personally guard the Earth Kingdom’s prince at that time, it had been a strong sense of duty that held him firm at his hip. Prevented him from so much as letting Wu _blink_ without his seeing it. And, gradually, duty had transformed into _want_. Protectiveness hardly unlike that which he harnessed over his brother.

He had, admittedly or not (likely the prior, considering most recent _events_ ), come to genuinely _care_ about the boy, regardless of his antics that got Mako into more undesired situations than necessary. His job became his hobby (pathetically, stated like that; perhaps he _needed_ a few hobbies). As things were right now, he should have been all the more reluctant to ever leave Wu alone again.

And yet here he was.

The palace guard he addressed faced the question with a quizzical look at first. Though promptly did he catch on to the meaning and gesture down the nearest set of stairs. “You’ll find a cell at the end of the hallway. Impossible to miss.”

Mako didn’t wait a second before descending into the dungeon’s gloom.

They had only just arrived at the palace, an uncomfortable train ride behind them only to open the doors to further awkward interactions within the walls. As obedient and “loyal” of a bodyguard as he was, Mako accompanied Wu through the extravagant entry, along the corridors and away from the Dai Li still unpacking what belongings had been brought.

It had been a silent walk, for the most part, Mako still keeping a respectful distance away (as Wu seemed to want). Until he was dismissed. Actually _dismissed_.

Not in a passive-aggressive “I’m still mad at you” kind of way, but reassuringly. So little credit did Mako give Wu in having any degree of awareness, but he _must_ have sensed the firebender’s uneasiness then. He must have noticed how his hands curled in and out of fists so restlessly: a need to _do_ something that, even without knowing the exact details, he trusted was important.

Wu _trusted_ his judgment. Always had (at least in circumstances barring fashion sense). And as strange of a relationship they now had—due to Mako’s apparent inability to _not_ make things immediately weird—Wu had, for that moment, set aside his petty grudge to truly listen to his bodyguard’s needs.

Without Mako having to say a word.

He had made the mistake of implying Wu incapable of fending for himself, perhaps needing a perfect excuse to always _be there_ for him. But it wasn’t true. It was _furthest_ from the truth.

At the end of the day, just who was it needing who?

He reached the bottom of the stairs with a _thump_ that echoed through the vicinity, courtesy of purposefully skipping the last few steps in a small leap. Those behind bars closest to him peered over, curiosity in some, dull acknowledgment in others. But Mako ignored every face entirely.

There was only one person worth his attention down here.

The prison block was dimly lit, a clear difference in the years that had passed since Mako and Bolin had been here themselves. Locked away from daylight, these criminals were, and how easy it was to tell who’d been here the longest just by a sickly complexion. The tiniest slots for windows at the walls meeting the ceiling sporadically spotted the interior, providing what meager visibility there was.

A sorry state due to Kuvira’s temporary reign, Mako reckoned. Certainly something to be brought up to Wu in the future as to not treat their prisoners like _animals_. At the time, however, he found himself disgustingly grateful for it.

These living arrangements were still better than what _she_ deserved.

_She_. He realized then he hadn’t the faintest idea what her name was. But, truthfully, it better suited the situation; Mako didn’t care. Better to not give any semblance of humanity to a bandit he had no qualms against hurting in the same way she had hurt Wu—lest he feel even an inkling of regret.

How cold he was capable of being, and without the mind to notice it.

Perhaps, in some way, this little venture into the prison block had been a retreat from all that had become far too confusing to grasp: Ju-long’s plot having yet to see the light, his current standing with Wu, his own _feelings_ , Ju-long more or less being aware or suspicious of these feelings. He needed _something_ to make sense. Anything. And a certain touch of comfort came from a situation that set him in the role of a detective once more.

These were waters he was familiar with. And waters he was more than willing to dive right into in order to find answers.

_Wu couldn’t get hurt again._

He walked briskly down the long line of cells, staring straight ahead and pointedly oblivious to any sounds around him—any prisoners attempting to capture his attention for whatever reason they had (boredom likely the main one). In the shadows, it took until he was practically upon the bars of the chamber at the end to notice his destination had been reached. And without even finding the presence inside did he speak.

“You’re her, aren’t you?”

Nothing but silence answered him at first, if not the slightest shuffle to prove the prisoner’s existence. But she spoke. Deep, slow, smooth as velvet in its faint echo off the walls.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Mako flicked out his wrist, conjured a burst of flame that nestled into the cushion of his palm. Light enough to reflect off of the bars, to stretch an arc of glowing orange across the dusty floor and cage it with shadows of what held her captive. She remained the mystery, though. Rather, her appearance did.

His opinion on her _character_ had already long been decided.

“Mm—well what have we here?” she cooed, a voice in the cell’s darkest corner. “You may try making yourself visible before spewing questions, darling. If I had known who I was dealing with”—a deep breath, her next words coming on an exhale—“I may have been more cooperative.”

“Good.” He wasn’t fazed. “That does half my job for me.”

Another inhale answered him, though sharper and through clenched teeth. “So _serious_.” The tapping couldn’t have been anything but her fingernails. “We’ve all the time in the world down here, little firebender. Surely we can _enjoy_ it, hm?”

“I’m not here to _enjoy_ anything.”

“Is that so?”

“And _I_ don’t have all the time in the world, so you’re going to cooperate and make this quick.”

“Oh dear.”

He heard movement again, though much more than before. A series of scrapes across the plated ground, the rustling of fabric bunching in some areas and smoothing in others. Eyes gradually adjusting to the dark—to what minimal visibility his fire offered—he saw a thin form rise from the maw of black. And, thereafter, a woman gradually take shape as she neared the bars to greet him.

Light crept ever so tentatively across her pallor, and only produced shadows in places it couldn’t reach. Slow and deliberate, her actions were.

She stood just the slightest taller than him, forcing his eyes upward to find the irises a striking shade of gold studying him. Hair of a deep brown warmed by the fire hung in messy tendrils around her face, though part of it still pulled back to prove it had once been orderly. Her head, as leisurely as the rest of her, cocked with the curiosity of a predator staring down its prey.

Subconsciously, Mako was reminded of a _snake_.

“Are you”—she moved her lips with grace around her words, a sickening smile bordering each—“going to _hurt_ me?”

“Depends.” He braced himself. “You give me the answers I want, and we won’t have any problems.”

“And if I don’t?”

One half of her mouth was still curved into the semblance of a smirk.

“I’m not down here to answer _your_ questions. Besides”—his brows stitched—“I think we both know the answer to that one.”

“Threats lose their charm when they remain so vague.”

And she seemed genuinely disappointed by it, as if hoping in earnest for the gruesome details of what may befall her the longer she refused to cooperate. Mako would pin the look in her eyes as actual thirst, and he wondered now how much of a prisoner she really was if she only _enjoyed_ this.

_Special prisoner_ crept back into his mind and in shudders over his skin.

_Not_ the place he wanted his thoughts to go right now.

Which had him humoring her, in some regard, with a casual “You play with fire, then you better expect to get burned.”

It was corny. Perhaps one of the corniest lines he had come up with during his days as a cop (that he never got to use—probably a good thing), but he squared her with it nevertheless. Completely serious, his pinched expression was unyielding even against the gilded stare leveling him.

Silence puckered between them.

But obviously not because he had actually intimidated her.

No, mere seconds passed before she burst into an abrupt fit of giggles, the stuffy air of the prison somehow becoming thicker by the sound. It echoed off of every wall, surrounding Mako from all directions, but it was no pleasant chime or playful bubbling of laughter. It shook him down to his core.

Not only because of her clear amusement at his failed efforts of dominance.

There was something… far from _sane_ about that sound.

“Awh.” It wasn’t at all kind in nature, though. “You’ve been waiting so long to use that, haven’t you? I’m flattered. But”—gaunt fingers curled around the bars of her cage and drew her closer—“I’m not all that afraid of fire. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

He felt, if not _smelled_ , her breath on his face in their proximity, yet did well not to step back and establish distance again. Maybe it was a pride issue. Maybe he thought she’d be too satisfied if he showed any semblance of retreat. Or maybe his steeling his pose was succeeding in just that, and his attempts to avoid it were his traitors.

Whatever the reason, they had brought themselves so near each other that she’d be on his toes if not for the metal between them. And now, all the more visible in his fire’s glow, her grin hooked like a crescent on full lips.

Mako had to remind himself why he was here—and to not play along with her games.

“What do you want with Wu?”

“Huh. You’re not as fun as I thought you’d be.” She showed disappointment again, but not enough to sway her focus on his face. “I don’t find myself too terribly inclined to ‘answer your questions,’ wee flame. You’re better than this, aren’t you? You can give me some incentive.”

He scowled, took in a breath to retort a moment too late when she spoke over him.

“Clever little detective—? Surely you’ve _deduced_ a few things on your own.”

“I don’t _need_ deductions; I need facts.”

“And you’re so sure I’ll give you the truth?”

Gut reaction, desperation harbinger to frustration, forced one of his hands through the barrier between. The fire once prancing about his palm extinguished to utter darkness at the sudden movement, but he still managed to clench the collar of her tunic. And thereafter yank her impossibly closer; she was _pressed_ to the bars, now.

Somehow, despite a readjustment to the lack of light, he could still make out every feature on her face. Their eyes caught in a deadlock, and while his teeth clenched into something no different than a growl, she was smirking still.

His next demand came out more heated than anything produced by his own hands.

“Why did you hurt him?!”

He didn’t know what he planned on doing next. He didn’t _have_ a plan, for as level-headed and sure of himself as he had been upon descending into the gloom, it had run away with his emotions; now, without conscious thought, he wrestled the woman like the _animal_ he thought her to be. The patience wasn’t there anymore. Not when it came to this.

Not when it came to Wu.

But whatever primal instinct would have steered his next move was stifled, then.

By the last voice he wanted to hear.

“Please don’t damage the prisoner.”

It came calm, but with detectable exhaustion akin to a parent walking in on their child’s misconduct.

“If you do not like her, you may return her to me—but preferably in one piece.”

Mako shot a glance over his shoulder. Even in the dim, he spotted Ju-long’s silhouette several lengths behind.

“‘Return’ her—?” he began, only for said prisoner to cut him off.

“You told me I could play with him!” she complained at their company. “Look—! He’s only just _now_ getting to be _fun_.”

“There’s plenty of time yet for games.”

“What’re you—?” Mako looked back and forth between them, and recognition slowly dawned on his face. “Ju-long—”

“His left arm, Jeza.”

“Oh, good! I had almost forgot.”

The grip on her collar had loosened by then, folds of dirty fabric still fluttering about his fingers but no longer wound tight between. While his mind chased the situation in an effort to catch up, his body went all but forgotten. For those few seconds’ reprieve, that is.

Until a fresh sensation, potent and screeching for attention, ripped down that arm anchoring her.

And, whether he wanted to or not, he was _forced_ to let her go.

It wasn’t because of the pain. Little more than a throb of discomfort at best, it reawakened his awareness to his surroundings just in time for him to see that limb moving on its own: gnarled and _unnatural_ movements, but movements all the same. It was ushered away from what it previously held, down and through the bars again.

Mako couldn’t help the grunt with which he answered, writhing once on the spot in a feeble effort to flex those muscles on his own— _he had done this before_. He had broken from this before. He knew exactly what it felt like, knew exactly how to overcome it—

So he reeled his free hand back while it was still in his command.

Flames sprouted to life across his knuckles.

Ju-long uttered an impatient warning.

“Jeza.”

“You’re no more fun than he is.”

Now there was pain.

He understood within a split second why it had been _this_ arm. Why, disregarding whether he clutched Jeza in a death grip or not, she would have focused her bloodbending on it. Why, perhaps, at the start of this all, Ju-long made sure to _comment_ on it, and thus provoke him into revealing exactly what he wanted.

His injury, no matter how healed it was, out of a cast and _capable_ , was targeted—and quickly did it feel like the threads freshly woven were being ripped apart at the seams. Muscles spanning all the way to his elbow twisted beneath his skin, tight enough that knots felt more like tears and molten heat burned from his marrows.

Mako couldn’t discern if the flex of his fingers was his response, or that too of the bending. The cry resounding off the narrow passage and blaring back into his ears was that of his own voice, somehow managed after its predecessor being naught but a sharp gasp. He found himself closer to the ground, having stumbled but not remembering it, and a hand once wielding fire released it into feeble embers which sprinkled off into the dark.

Collapsing in on himself, tucking the inflicted arm to his chest with what feeble control he had left, he did not hear the approaching footsteps. Nor did he take note of a new set of fingers like pricks of ice under his chin.

“There we go. This is a bit more of a _natural_ position for you, isn’t it?” Faintly he recognized it as Ju-long, clarified only by the Dai Li leader’s face slipping into view when his head was ushered upward. “On your knees?”

Okay, he wouldn’t stand for that.

Quite literally.

It became hard to tell if the bloodbending had ebbed, for the blinding sting through his arm had eventually numbed—or perhaps been repressed by his conscious: an effort to ignore it before he drove himself mad. He took the opportunity he had, then, to lift his other hand again, summon staticky warmth to his fingertips, and venture a lucky shot at that smug look.

But of course, as he was with everything, Ju-long was prepared.

And before even a tingle of lightning could spur, Ju-long jerked his unoccupied arm forward. Earthen material tucked up a voluminous sleeve whizzed from its refuge and locked in a merciless squeeze around Mako’s wrist—effective not only in staying his previous bending attempt, but steering the entire limb away. Twisting it at an impossible angle. And nailing it to his back.

His response was choked. It may have been some sort of shout if not for it snagging in his throat. One hand pressed behind him, the other still cradled to his chest, Mako had little choice but to crumple forward.

He was only able to successfully lurch when the fingers on his face relinquished their grip.

“I think we’re done here,” Ju-long uttered, a tone sounding far too bored for the situation. “Jeza, would you—?”

She didn’t reply.

Or… _maybe_ she did.

Mako couldn’t tell among his swimming thoughts, much less when those waters became murkier and in turn the world began to spin. All at once, pressure filled his head, pulsed through his ears, set his vision blinking in and out. He liked to think he kept his chin somewhat raised. He remembered finding the stern visage of the Dai Li agent above him, watching silently for his conscious to slip.

But he didn’t remember ever actually hitting the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> claps hands loudly  
> I know bloodbending is a FULL MOON thing and a RARE TALENT and all that but cmon.  
> If Yakone and his demon spawn could do it, there can't NOT be other people in the entirety of the world who can.   
> Things are getting intense up in here. Poor Mako's gonna be by himself for a bit for some fun times. Buckle up!
> 
> Quick note: I lost an entire week of writing because work owned my ass and left me to die, so I've fallen behind on my schedule with these chapters. I'm hoping to get back up to speed, but I'll let you guys know if I end up posting some late because of this! Sorry!!


	11. Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to pop in again real quick to thank all of my readers and any support I've been getting!! It's super helpful and encouraging to see others enjoying my work, so HUGE THANK YOU.
> 
> Just noting again that I've fallen behind my self-set schedule for this work. I have two more weeks of content written, so maybe that's enough time to try to get back into the groove, but apologies in advance if we reach a point where I'm back to posting only one chapter a week. (or going on a brief hiatus)
> 
> Your support really does help motivate me to write more, so thanks again! I'm going to try my best to hop on top of writing and catch up, but I do appreciate you guys understanding and being patient with me if I fail to accomplish that!! Gotta try to get my rear into gear...
> 
> Happy reading!!

He was woken by an ache.

Or maybe there was more than one, but glaringly in that damn arm of his, some festering wound outweighed the rest. It reminded him of the injury’s birth; in a sentience that hadn’t yet righted itself, Mako was taken back—like he had, however temporarily, _forgotten_ every month since then. He felt it, fresh, new, no less irksome than before, and part of him expected to wake up to Kuvira’s destruction all over again.

The reality of his situation, though?

He couldn’t decide which he preferred.

It was slow-going, but he did manage to bring himself to the present. With impressive reluctance, thoughts no more than muddled began to click into place, and he was vaguely recalling what events had led up to the here and now before his eyes even opened. Details were spotty. He didn’t even know where _here_ was, but one thing he did know: his arm was back at square one as far as recovery went.

His position was what did him in—as he noted, grasping awareness of his body before his whereabouts, both hands had been secured above his head. Not on top of each other, but side-by-side and effectively stretched far enough that the strain in his muscles produced a minute quake through both limbs.

Whatever groan he heard (like simply grumpy from sleep and not induced by pain) must have been himself, though Mako didn’t recall making it.

“Well, it’s about time.”

Definitely _not_ himself. And yet he recognized the voice. One of two he didn’t want to wake up to; there wasn’t even a way of telling which would’ve been worse.

He took the time to finally lift his head—upright, but craned forward as culprit of the stress in his neck—and assimilate himself as best he could in a brain still slow to process. Blinking wearily, one eye after the other, spots eventually shrunk from view; he saw her.

And just that on its own made a lot more clarity flood in.

“Wakey wakey!” Jeza chirped, still far from pleasantly. “C’mon little firebender; you mustn’t keep a lady _waiting_.”

Some manner of grunt answered her, as Mako swiftly learned words were still escaping him. He tested what he remained capable of: a small wriggling of his arms in their restraints, the shift of his legs proving their treatment matched. There was only so far he could lift his head before it met a wall to which he was bound, but it became a small blessing on its own.

At least his captor had given him somewhere to support it—suspecting he might, in due time, not have the strength to do so himself.

“ _Tsk._ ” The bloodbender clicked her tongue with impatience. She was seated cross-legged on top of a table—perhaps the only one in the room, or… _whatever_ it was they were in—and began rocking restlessly back and forth. “Ju-long really talked you up for nothing.”

Ju-long. Right. _Of course_ Ju-long. He had nearly forgotten, and if not for her mention, the short glimpse down at what held his feet in place would’ve helped connect the dots of jumbled memory.

These weren’t shackles or any sort of _metal_ cuffs. Matching the walls themselves (he had to be underground), thick stone curved all the way up both calves so alike the boots he donned. They held him firm to the floor in the same manner an earthen mold contained his arms over his head, and reminder itself of said position ushered in a fresh sting through the left.

He flinched.

Jeza grinned.

“Did you know,” she sing-songed, “bloodbending typically doesn’t produce any lasting damage in its victims?” Jeza stretched her legs out to hop off her perch, curtains of bangs still loose in her face bouncing with her movements. “It may be dreadful in the moment. I may be able to twist and pull at every vein and organ in your pretty little body, but they all turn out okay in the end.”

Mako didn’t meet her gaze at first, seizing the opportunity to absorb the poorly lit interior in which he was held captive. One lantern on the table at the room’s center was the only source providing any visibility, but he could tell the space was small.

And perhaps _meant_ for things like this.

“But that’s what makes it so unique, doesn’t it?” She moved those few lengths forward to complete an approach. “It means I can do things like this—”

Her hand rose between them, and long nails reflected the fire’s glow as she flexed her fingers quick and rigid to incite the knotting which tangled down his wounded arm. As if being ripped and bitten by lightning itself, the pain again flared, but Mako had vigor only to hiss through clenched teeth. And writhe, albeit minimally, with instinct to recoil.

“—and you’ll still come out in one piece.”

She relinquished her hold, contrasting grace bringing that hand to rest delicate on her chin while she devoured his reaction.

“Of course, Ju requested I experiment a bit: see what happens when I _play_ with what has already been damaged—will you be my test subject, little firebender?”

Their faces came close, and Mako had no room to incline his neck when met with the wall behind him. With a playful but jarringly stiff cock of her head, Jeza trailed one finger down the threaded patterns of scars tarnishing his arm; the touch was featherlight, but tempted the tightening of muscles on their own accord.

“Or at least a better one than our ‘president’ was?”

_That_ shot him awake. Having been lingering in fatigue since first coming to, mere mention of Wu—even without _name_ —sent a ripple like static through his frame, and what fog dawdled upon his conscious dissipated as if by an abrupt gust.

“Wu—”

The first word he managed, and yet all he was able to conjure while a newly awakened mind skipped to unravel itself.

Jeza must’ve noticed, close as they were, the rapid darting of his eyes over all indistinct places, downward and narrowed in painstaking thought. She snaked her head back, and though Mako was paying her little mind, he noticed her gaze boring into him while her lips pursed.

“Such brilliant detective work. You really are one of the best,” she mocked lazily with the wave of her hand. “But y’know”—clearly she was quick to bore, as in mere tone, Mako could tell what she planned on saying next was intended to rile him again—“there _is_ something rather exhilarating about a fresh, clean canvas to work with: skin and bone so pristine and unsullied.”

He felt his hackles rising.

“I could mark _him_ ”—she loved this, and he hated that he made it so easy for her—“wherever I wanted.”

Part of him wanted to scream. Part of him wanted to punch her with all the fire he could muster. And yet all of him knew the futility of the prior and the impossibility of the latter. So, he went with some sort of mix.

She had many blessings to count that she wasn’t as close as she could be.

In an agitated resemblance of a growl, Mako emitted a puff of burning flames right from his mouth, and that which he felt as a heat rising from the deepest reaches of his lungs. He spat the fronds of inferno directly into her face, and the response was immediate.

_She_ was the one to scream—yelp, more like—while a flight response established even more space between them. Stumbling back, lifting her arm in a shield much too late, it took her enough time for Mako to smugly appreciate that he had caught her off-guard—when he wasn’t consumed and seething with hatred over implications of what she had done to her previous “subject.”

_I told you you’d get burned._

“You paying attention now?” Mako claimed the floor while he could, voice loud and resonating. “I guess Ju-long didn’t talk me up enough.”

Jeza was rubbing at her face still, though paused to land him a glare.

“I’m waiting for you to make your point; is there an estimation on when _that_ will arrive, because as far as I can tell—” And this was what made him mad. _This_ was what ignited warmth in his palms of flames that could not see fruition. It preached itself in a voice gone terse, in a tight exhale heralding his next statement. “You’ve been doing all of this for _fun_.”

As if the fire had left more than a light burn flushed over her nose and cheeks, she continued wiping her fingers down her skin and checking for residue. “It’s all dull to me,” Jeza groused, “but Ju-Ju has his reasoning.”

Mako wished he hadn’t heard that nickname.

“This, however—” She finally accepted the injury, as her hands dropped from their fussing to instead hover in the air in front of her. The gnarling of her fingers was noted instantly, and Mako prepared himself for the only thing he could imagine happening next.

Her annoyance transformed, like the flip of a switch, into delight.

“This will be _entirely_ for fun.”

He imagined she’d go for his impairment again. If not that, then maybe give him a new one to “play” with. All of those cuts and bruises he had seen on Wu, that limp he sported—Mako made the mistake of pondering what more she had done to him after first inflicting each and every one, and his mind ventured down gruesome paths of bloodbending’s extents without his approval.

But whatever she planned on doing to _him_ , he didn’t get to witness or endure.

Just as he stiffened his muscles, took in a breath to steel every nerve available, they were interrupted by the distinct sound of shifting rock. Off to one side of their cozy dwelling, an opening yawned in a once solid wall, giving way to a new figure who strolled ever so casually inside.

And, like déjà vu, he spoke.

This time directed at Jeza.

“Please don’t damage the prisoner.”


	12. When He Needs Him Most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day to those who celebrate--be sure to give your mom some love if you can!
> 
> In the meantime, have some angst.  
> Thanks to all you readers for your continued interest in this spiraling trash! :'D

Ju-long paused only long enough to give the order, and didn’t even wait to ensure it be followed before closing the wall behind him, proceeding to that ominous table in the middle of the room. He had something tucked under his arm, as was noted in a blink by the seasoned detective, but upon his depositing it next to the lantern, Mako still had no luck discerning precisely what it was. Rather, what was _inside_ it, as he had determined it some sort of _case_.

“Comfortable, Mako?” Ju-long inquired without even looking his way, much less acknowledging a bristling bloodbender at his side.

“I’ve had worse.”

A distracted hum answered him, as Ju-long eyed his possession a moment longer before properly turning to the apparently “undamaged” prisoner—if he was only just now commanding that he _not_ be. (What was his definition, then?) He tucked his arms into gaping sleeves, and though that infuriatingly calm demeanor stoked the typical urge to hit him, Mako retained as much of a stoic façade as he could.

Not to give him the pleasure.

Not to behave _exactly_ as was provoked.

“What do you mean ‘don’t damage’ him?” Jeza barked in the tense quiet. “The entire _point_ of this—”

“—has changed.” Ju-long didn’t miss a bit, nor did he even glance her way initially while focused with sudden resolve on their prisoner. “I have better use for him, but—” Just a minimal flick of his gaze to the side. “You’ve done a good number, Jeza. Precisely the amount of work I needed; thank you.”

“We were barely getting started.”

“And yet you’re finished. There will be plenty more toys for you that aren’t nearly as valuable.”

Honestly, Mako couldn’t even wrap his head around the relationship they shared: how obviously dominant Ju-long was even though it was pretty clear Jeza could _easily_ bend him into submission (in more than one way). But she had some hint of respect for him—or something else being held over her and forcing obedience. Which was precisely the reason that even when displeasure was evident in her pout, she argued no further.

And Ju-long went on as if expecting nothing but.

“Is your face all right?”

His tone remained as level as his stare on Mako. Most would wriggle beneath that look. He didn’t.

Without even waiting for an answer, “Head on upstairs. I brought healers with me; my men will tell you where you’re needed next.”

Seemingly mellowed out, now, Jeza briskly turned on her heel and slunk off to the wall through which Ju-long made his entrance. With a mere stomp of his foot, he granted her access back to the outside world (or what Mako only assumed to be), and waited just long enough for her to step past the threshold before it closed behind her.

Here was where they were alone again: quality time with Jeza, now quality time with “Ju-Ju.” Was it luck that Mako would deal with them one at a time and not _together_ as before?

Or was the shiver of dread down his spine something to be worried about?

Ju-long sniffed to fill the quiet, and his brows arced indifferently when he finally relinquished his gaze. Instead, it fell on that single crackling light, swathing marigold hues upon is pallor and burning flames in irises of ice.

“Well,” he began after some time, and yet let it hang in the air for many moments longer. “Mako—”

His lips twitched. Mako felt an impatient rush of heat through his veins only _just_ reined back.

“Mako, Mako, Mako.” Within a sigh, like a disappointed parent, Ju-long shook his head. “I put forth a noble effort, you know. I tried to keep you out of all of this, but”—one hand moved to rest on the table’s edge—“you _insisted_ you be involved.”

Mako’s nose pinched. “What exactly does ‘all of this’ entail? My _job_ is to—”

“You are a _bodyguard_ , Mako.” Ju-long turned to him. “Not a political adviser. Not a cop. Not a detective. Your ‘job’ is to ensure President Wu’s safety. You do not have a say in his decisions. You do not get to conduct interrogations on prisoners without consent. You provide the muscle he very clear needs, and _nothing_ else.”

It was exceptionally hard, and particularly in this position, not to visibly shift with a desire to kick him right where it hurt: prove how much of the “muscle” he could be when motivated. Talked down again and again by someone who thought he knew so much _better_ … Mako’s respect for elders only went so far, and he’d be more than happy to demonstrate where that limit was.

But instead, he simply settled with a glare.

And continued to preserve a level head as to get the information he still lacked.

“Yeah, ‘safety’—’cause, y’know… Wu sure seems like he’s totally safe in your hands,” he remarked. “Tortured by a bloodbender who… _apparently_ is doing a few of her little experiments under _your_ orders, huh? When did that become a thing? Before or after the president was ‘kidnapped by bandits’?”

Ju-long was silent. Not due to any surprise at the accusations, but reminiscent as before of the same unimpressed glower of a parent at his disobedient child.

“And you—” Mako scoffed. “You actually got me with that. Blame _me_ for it, conveniently—”

“It wasn’t convenient; it was the entire point.”

His voice sharpened like the edge of a blade.

And Mako paused, regrettably taken aback.

“Play ‘detective’ as much as you want, but you still miss the core of it all.” Ju-long pursed his lips while he leaned more of his weight against the table. “I told you I wanted you out of the way. Countless times. Or otherwise made it blatantly obvious. You picked up on it quickly, but never actually listened, did you?

“So, there was a last resort; I had assumed, given your job title and expectations, the president stolen right from under your nose, terribly injured in the process, would warrant your discharge. If not by Wu himself—though it was foolish of me to think him intelligent enough to make that decision—then by your own spirits crushing you into resignation. Perhaps a long shot, but—well, I was willing to give it a try if it meant getting you out of the picture.”

A hand brushed over his forehead, and he took in a breath before saying more. “Now here we are—because _someone_ still doesn’t understand how to keep his nose out of things.”

Mako blinked and, for the moment, had no problems completely forgetting his position, his injury, his less-than-ideal situation. What his thoughts battled with now were the utter shock at himself for not piecing it together sooner and the disbelief matching in fervor that Ju-long ever think that would’ve _worked_ , of all things. _Of all things._

Maybe the prior of the two outcomes he mentioned; _maybe_ Wu would’ve kicked him to the dust, as some buried part of him feared from the very moment he let any of that happen. Unable to forgive himself, Mako felt he wouldn’t have argued; he’d have submissively ducked his head and taken the punishment for his negligence. _Welcomed_ it, actually. Maybe it would have made him feel better knowing _someone_ was as hard on him as he was.

But resigning on his own? _Giving up?_

“You really don’t know a thing about me,” he said, not hostile, but as matter-of-fact as saying the sky was blue.

No, if anything, his blunder—this set-up—had just pushed him to work all the harder in his duty as a guard; that was the very _least_ of it, really. His “job” meant all the more now than it used to. In fact, it could’ve meant so much more long before Mako even _realized_ it, but—now he did.

And try as Ju-long may, he would _not_ get rid of him.

“So your plan failed,” he continued, never once breaking eye contact. “Now you’re just going to keep me in forced confinement forever? Wu’s ‘intelligent enough’ to notice me just _disappearing_ , in case that hasn’t been in your thought process.”

“Charming,” Ju-long quipped. “But the plan did work to some favorable outcome; President Wu _trusts_ the Dai Li now that we’ve rescued him, right? He’ll believe about anything we tell him.” He canted his head, and for the first time since entering the chamber, a pleased smirk glided across his face.

Mako wished he could argue, but—

_You don’t pay attention to anything going on around you—_

His mouth thinned into a line, forcing a sigh to release loud through his nose.

“But as for you—” Ju-long skirted a look to the equipment he had carried in. “No, it’s a waste to lock you up; I have a few other things in mind.”

“Great.”

Mako tried to sound sarcastic, but the concern now hitting him hailed all words on a croak. He _knew_ the Dai Li were planning on taking advantage of Wu; why hadn’t he done something _sooner_?

He dipped his chin to one side, threw a look like twin daggers at a shadowed corner of the room, and immersed himself in his own deliberations: rapid, difficult to keep up with if not for being his sole focus. Ju-long’s obvious threat just then, directed at himself, went ignored beyond his curt recognition of hearing it at all.

_Hell_ , he didn’t care.

Do everything he damn wanted to _Mako_ , but if Wu were to be harmed again—?

Were he not in Ju-long’s presence—even in ignoring it, it was easy still to feel, as if he carried an empty cold wherever he went—he would’ve been muttering curses under his breath. _Spitting_ them. And all aimed true at his own stupidity more so than the mastermind behind everything. It unfolded itself neatly and painfully obvious now that it was laid out for him. _Now_.

Of course _now_. Now that his back was against a wall. Now that he was cornered. Now that he was needed.

_I personally assure you that you will not be needed._

_Show up where you’re needed, but keep your nose out of places where you’re not._

**_You need me around._ **

But Wu didn’t. All of those times, maybe he never did. It was now—when things mattered the absolute most, when Wu would _need_ him more than he ever did in the past— _it was now_ that Mako couldn’t even show up for it.

He couldn’t be there.

A near-sigh breached his circling thoughts; he regulated it on a careful exhale upon taking in too much air. Even in their stone casings, anchored and practically crushed, his fingers flexed with a desire to fist in his frustration, and such was the stark reminder of his arm’s mutilation. The mere convulsion of muscles spurred a burn of the uncomfortable sort that swelled from his wrist to his elbow.

He was able to conceal it well enough behind clamped teeth.

“Look,” Mako surrendered at the tail of another breath. “I don’t care what crazy, verifiably insane things you have in mind for me, but just—” The bile he tasted was a precursor to what he planned on saying next. “Don’t hurt him again. Whatever you’re… you’re planning with him or why you—don’t _hurt_ him.”

_Please_.

He had enough pride not to say it aloud.

Somewhere along the conversation’s trail, Ju-long had begun fussing with the contents in his case, but the hands shuffling through it paused at the same moment as his attention flicked back to his prisoner.

“You’re deciding to play your part as ‘bodyguard’ even now? And when you can’t even feasibly _do_ anything? I admire your tenacity.”

“I’m doing the only thing I _can_ do,” Mako conceded. “You’re the kind of guy who likes deals, right?”

Amusement pranced over his captor’s face as he turned toward the back of the room. His stare lingered on Mako as long as it could before it would strain his neck to hold, and then he was stepping into the shadows with something nestled in his hands—procured from that mystery case.

“As thrilled as I am to test your abilities of negotiation, I actually have no immediate plans to harm your dearest any further. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have been ‘hurt’ to begin with if it wasn’t for the sake of removing you; pity any of that happened.”

There were a couple things to digest in those statements: 1) the whole “dearest” thing giving proof as much as Ju-long’s “good boy” comment that he _knew_ , and 2) Wu very unnecessarily being injured and in turn sparking stronger hatred in the firebender.

But he quelled his emotions and zeroed in on what was crucial at the time.

“Then what do you want with him?”

“His cooperation.” Veiled in darkness, Ju-long spoke. “You know as well as I how impressible he is. And someone like him will need all the influence he can get to run a country: _well_ , at least. There will be no need for drastic measures, then. _He_ remains the easy part of the equation.”

Mako continued resisting the close-to-bursting urge to defend Wu. “And the hard part?”

“Well, since our _president_ insists on democracy, and each state will have its own officials with leniency to do as they please, order won’t be as easy to maintain.”

A clatter proved Ju-long was searching for something—or otherwise finding and gathering things—in that corner, but he did not yet emerge back into the lamp’s soft glow.

“If we are to maintain control over our states, we will need their obedience, and means to _force_ it if it is not offered willingly. Now, some leaders will be fairly simple to break; the threat of injury, and more so enhanced by bloodbending, will be convincing enough. But some… Some will indeed have stronger wills, stronger minds: and both of which will need to be broken.

“So, since you not only have proven your overwhelming desire to be involved, but also have so courteously given yourself up for the sake of the former prince—”

Finally, the Dai Li’s leader arose from the gloom, heaving in both hands something Mako identified immediately as the very same foundation of Varrick’s movers. The projector was placed down beside the solitary flame, though nudging it enough to be centered on that table. Ju-long messed with its positioning before peering back, and his grin was prominent enough to flash teeth.

“We’ll see about breaking you first.”


	13. What Truly Matters

“Break me?” Mako repeated, probably not as fazed by the threat as he should’ve been. “By what? Showing me my brother’s movers from a few years back? I’ve _already_ suffered those, and I’m doing just fine.”

Reasonably fine, at least—barring his current predicament, but somehow he had a hard time believing anything Ju-long could put on that projector would be more painful than _Nuktuk: Nonsensically Half-naked Hero of the South_.

Ju-long chuckled. “No, no. You will be less prone to falling asleep for this one. Rather, I think it will hold your interest for a good long while.”

Mako had a retort prepped on his tongue, but he bit it off before a single syllable had time to squeeze through—pointless and undeniably doing little but encouraging his captor with each quip.

A discomfort finally etching itself back into his limbs persuaded he make that fruitless fidgeting again: an effort first to so much as roll his shoulders, then to stretch that thickening need to crack a spine gone stiff and sore. But his position secured a near-immobility, and twist his hips and neck as much as he wanted, relief would not come. Definitely not when he was trying to be subtle about it.

Such was his defiance: a persistent grit he managed even now—as if the leader of an organization _trained_ to read people wouldn’t notice.

He did.

Not even having to act or comment on it, and Mako could read him all the same: just that irksome little glint of arrogance in pale eyes. Maybe, he realized, the greater majority of their conversation was happening in just their looks alone. Even privately, nothing to keep them from removing their masks and growling in each other’s faces, they retained that shared dignity for their own respects.

Ju-long liked playing his games as much as Jeza did, evidently.

“Now, when I say I want to break you,” he continued, their silent exchange cast aside, “what I really mean is that one needs to be broken in order to be rebuilt.”

A soft click and the projector lit up the dark, shedding a patch of blank off-white on the wall opposite to where Mako was pinned. Ju-long fiddled with rolls of film not yet in their proper place, and he craned his neck around the device as if confirming all was in order before he proceeded with anything else.

“And a will as strong as yours may be… _tricky_ , but not impossible. Worth experimenting, at the very least, wouldn’t you agree?” He tossed a smirk over his shoulder before pivoting to the other side the room again, interest swiveling instead to what appeared to be speakers only noticeable in the new light. “That way, if success is found in you, I can rest assured it will be found in most everyone else.”

“I’m flattered,” Mako deadpanned.

Ju-long all but ignored his comment, though, and continued prattling as if he had not even heard it. “Another accidental but favorable outcome. At least now you being an insufferable pest has shown some advantage.”

After some repositioning of the apparent sound system (that was probably unnecessary but gave him something to do while he continued with his spiel), the agent veered back across the room—all the way, for the first time, as he moved even past the table to stand directly in front of his prisoner. His hands in their newfound stagnation sought refuge behind his back.

“It is a touch, ahh… inhumane; I hope you’ll forgive me. But the first step will remain the worst of them, I should think. You will need to be”—his attention sidled to an upper corner of the chamber, mocking thought—“compliant. Which we both know is not an exceptionally strong suit of yours.”

He looked back. “Thus, the option I have left would involve some reformation of the psyche, that which can only be done through extreme and relatively disturbed mental states. How one achieves that is interesting and, well—leaves room for creativity.”

Skepticism was going to be Mako’s downfall. He couldn’t understand why, couldn’t wrap his head around his own indifference, but the interest to care? The _energy_ to be at all fearful? Neither existed for his benefit or otherwise; every word spilling from the Dai Li’s corrupted leader did little but sift through his ears and prompt respective remarks he continued holding back.

Was it that he didn’t believe him? Or that he believed in himself too much to worry about any sick crap this guy would pull on him? A belief that his “strong will” was to the point of being unbreakable?

Moreover, his self-sacrificing knew no bounds and he figured—

As long as it was _him_ and no one else—

As long as Wu wouldn’t again be _hurt_ or—wait.

“Now, then,” Ju-long said. “Let’s get you comfortable first.”

Hurt? No, Wu would cooperate. Wu wouldn’t be _hurt_ , but—

His train of thought spluttered, rickety on its tracks when something other than that voice he’d become so skilled at tuning out called for attention. The stone shackling his wrists above him shifted, then, still molded around his hands but gliding in dual arcs down both sides of his body. He let out a garbled noise of surprise, and one he regretted at not having prepped himself to stifle, as taut muscles flexed and blood tingled anew in his fingertips.

Some sense of relief hit him despite his arms now being restrained at his sides, tension no longer obvious and prodding at the back of his mind. He could lean forward, now, if he so desired to. And it was that urge to further relieve the ache in his back that had him indulging.

Or trying to.

Because he went for it—pride set aside, or perhaps existent still in the realization he could spit fire with more accuracy in Ju-long’s stupid face if he wanted—only to find a new force holding him back at a new point.

Almost like a hook snagging its victim, he felt cool earth scoop around his skull, encircling his forehead before rearing him back against the wall where the rest of him remained. Haphazardly, _purposefully_ lacking any delicacy, his head thumped against the rock behind; Mako made a face at the sprout of fresh pain—thankfully nothing but a soft throb and far from harrowing.

And a bump to jog his thoughts back on track.

He was focused so much—so _damn_ much—on the thought of Wu getting hurt. Of Wu being in danger. Of ensuring that, no matter what happened to himself, Wu remained safe and out of harm’s way; Mako didn’t even realize—

That wasn’t the point, was it?

Injuries healed. Both mentally and physically, even if they left small scars behind, time closed wounds and never failed in permitting the inflicted to lift his chin again and press on. Mako could guarantee his safety to a very real limit; he could not protect him from everything or shield him from all wickedness the world had to offer. He was not a _child_. They weren’t kids trying to survive on the streets. Mako couldn’t treat him like he did Bolin back in those trying times.

This was different. Wu wasn’t the innocent and untainted prince he may have been in the past. He had seen suffering before; hell, he had seen it even prior to the corruption of Kuvira’s reign. Mako wasn’t the _only_ one who lost his parents, and he had thought Wu so _privileged_ even then.

_You’ve stuck with me longer than anyone else has—_

_That_ was what mattered.

_That_ was what bothered him at the core of everything that had happened in this crazy mess.

He spent so much time regretting what Wu had gone through: the kidnapping, the injuries, and every tiny detail of what hurt him from the second he was out of Mako’s sights. He spent so much time in repentance, his mind his own worst enemy in thinking up the most dreadful of treatments—what he could’ve done to prevent he ever fall in Jeza… or Ju-long’s hands.

What he didn’t understand was that it was _never_ just that.

It was his not _being there_ for it.

The road would never be smooth for them. It would never be without its rough patches, never without a steep slope forcing them to either climb or fall. Wu would never _not_ be in danger; his position practically hailed it with a bright and waving flag. Mako’s job as a bodyguard was to ensure his safety. _To the best of his abilities_. And it wasn’t even a job anymore.

It was a _pleasure_.

He decided, then, that it didn’t matter. What they went through. What trials they faced. What scars they collected with each step. He could not guarantee Wu never be hurt again, and thus he could not grieve over what couldn’t be helped.

The only factor he could guarantee was that he was _there_ every step of the way.

That he remained at Wu’s side.

—stuck with him the _longest_.

And he couldn’t do that while he was locked up here.

His position wasn’t as convenient as it had been moments ago, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. In the span of his rumination, Ju-long had turned his back on him, standing now at the table to further adjust the projector; it looked like he was scooting it back to spread the impending image larger on the smooth rock it lit. Mako scanned his posture, the distance now between them, and the best place (if not just his _entirety_ ) to set him aflame.

“You will not eat,” Ju-long explained, beat after beat as he finished preparations. “You will not sleep.”

Mako took in a careful breath through his nose.

“You will not be able to do _anything_ without my making it possible.”

He filled his lungs, heat swelling through the twin chambers and fanning up his chest, to his throat.

“And you will most _certainly_ not—”

Flames could practically be tasted on his tongue.

But never to be released.

Ju-long, in one swift turn of his torso and jerk of his arm, sent a cluster of earthen matter as a direct counter to an attempted unexpected attack. The tiniest bout of fire to rise through Mako’s lips was extinguished fast as the rock slapped harsh over his mouth, and thus left naught but his nose to breathe through—to emit a grunt of both surprise and resentment.

“—be attacking your caregiver.”

His arm dropped back to his side, and he smoothed out that sleeve. “Really now, Mako.” A pathetic look landed on the gagged firebender. “You can’t have genuinely believed such an attack would be unforeseen. I thought you were smarter than that.”

A shame: now that he couldn’t talk, Mako wanted more than ever to snarl obscenities. He settled with one of his glares, and that which—so _common_ now of a look directed at the Dai Li agent—did an irritatingly little to daunt him.

“Not that it matters,” he mused in a shrug as he turned back around, threat vanquished. “Once we’re done, all of that ‘intellect’ will have been rewritten from scratch. Thankfully we aren’t losing _much_.”

Mako had the power to huff, at least—which he did, but not in defeat, no. Arms, legs, and now mouth all contained and muzzled as to not allow any fire to be sparked alive, Mako refused yet to give up. He began testing his restraints, experimenting with just how much room he had to flex his wrists, to tense his calves.

While his freshly damaged arm was held still to prevent further irritation, he rolled the other elbow, grit his teeth when he felt that hot flush of fire in his palm only to never burst its way through earth consistently _snuffing_ it out. He fueled it further with a second attempt, feeding in one burst every ounce of hatred toward his captor and ambition to be back by Wu’s side.

Heat stewed over the stone.

But still it refused to _break_.

“Mako, please,” Ju-long said, but with a disinterest completely contrasting his words. “There’s no need for that.”

Finally, he set the film into place. At the very same time the speakers spewed sound. And at the very same time Ju-long twisted to shoot him a look.

It was a cacophony: a direct assault in just seconds on the senses. One minute, Mako was wanting nothing more than to hear absolutely _anything_ but Ju-long’s voice, and the next, he was already cringing against a shrill pierce to his ears. It blared loud at first, as if to ensure it had snatched his attention, but petered out—wavered, really. _Fluctuated_. It was meant to be ever-changing—to be _bothersome_ enough that his brain could not simply zero in on one pitch, one volume, and strangle it.

And it wasn’t just that keeping his mind alert and his heart tripping over a disoriented rhythm. Complete with visuals; of course, that would be the projector’s purpose, as if the ringing battering his ears wouldn’t be enough to stupefy any lingering thoughts. What the visuals _were_ … was the mystery: likely not _meant_ to be anything, abstract splotches like ink spreading through the light, constantly moving, constantly dowsing the glow to render erratic flashes against his eyes.

Those he could _close_ , if he so wanted to, but—

Well, he did. In a flinch, instinctive to the disturbing onslaught. Only to find that no relief came. Relentlessly, even guarded by lids pressed forcibly tight, the flickers still beat against him. The sounds still dug like knives into his skull. And his heart continued its struggle in finding its own beat, lurching and tottering in the cavity of his chest.

“There we go.”

Vaguely, he heard that annoying tone weaved into the jarring clamor.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I do have some business to attend at the palace. You could benefit from the alone time.”

Mako dared to peek out, squinting (as if it would help at all) to watch Ju-long meander, unperturbed, back to the exit he had crafted. The Dai Li agent showed only mild discomfort at the noise, or more likely was just being an unbearable nuisance himself when he went to itch at his ear.

With a quick stomp, the stone opened one last time in what would be a good long while. Ju-long, hands again folded at his front, glided out with no less nonchalance than before. His steps hesitated but a moment so he could angle his head, toss a final glance at his subject.

“Be a good boy for me, won’t you, Mako?”

Then he was gone.

The rock slid back into place.

And Mako had nothing but himself and a resolve he hoped would not crumble just yet.


	14. Falling Apart

Time had a way of just… not existing while he was down there.

At first, he had enough capacity—enough awareness—to be capable of estimating; even if he remained ignorant of the time of day (rather, what _day itself_ ) since he was first overpowered, his internal clock kept him in check. He could estimate when an hour had passed. When the second rolled around after it. He could tell when his body wanted nothing more than to succumb to an embrace of sleep, only to be too wired and forcibly alert to do so. It was maddening, in absolutely every way possible.

The grouchiness of one refused rest. The irritability summoned by a throb so stale in his head due to an extended period of persistence not unlike that flashing imagery, that ringing grating as much on his mind as it was on his ears. The near-desperation for someone—anyone—to end his suffering, and in _any_ way possible. These mental states were woven together for a desired result. He was, _literally_ , being driven crazy, and maybe at one point, Mako knew that.

When this all began. In the first few hours of enduring what could only be described as psychological torment. He understood what the end product was meant to be: force him to lose all humanity, to rely heavily on only his captor for the things he needed to survive. Mentally, he’d become dependent; _him_. _He’d_ be needing someone, and the very last person he ever wanted to be vulnerable to.

The first time Ju-long returned was by an hour Mako already had lost track of. It could’ve been only a handful of hours later. An entire day. Hell if he knew, much less had enough coherence to follow their interaction. The agent had been like a ghost drifting in and out: nothing more than a quick check on his experiment, the offering of water (or maybe pressuring, as Mako wasn’t sure how he would’ve drank it without his hands to steady the cup), and a few words of one-sided conversation before he was left to his confinement again.

It was the one change in monotony, and was therefore what became somewhat of a salvation for a weary mind. Seldom as he could focus himself on anything but the buzzing in his ears or the relentless flicker in his eyes, he could still vaguely recognize a new presence each time it slunk into the gloom and granted even a touch of reprieve. He’d hate himself for it, if he got out of this. _When_ he got out of this, his resolve would argue if it weren’t so surely stamped out like a fickle ember beneath a boot.

To think that he wasn’t glaring every ounce of fire that he couldn’t actually wield each time Ju-long granted his company.

To think that, by the time his gag was removed, he was too far gone to shout obscenities, or hiss a stream of flames when that face came close.

To think that he wasn’t putting up a fight anymore.

Or… _no_ , he didn’t even know what he was fighting, what he was fighting _for_.

Delirious, absolutely deprived of sustenance beyond the necessary hydration, he yearned only—in an instinctual survival subconscious—for the next visit. What would save him from his solitude. What would cure the feeling like sand in his mouth, the empty knotting in his stomach. He did not care who brought it, nor did he even have the vigilance to know by then that his reliance only thickened each time for that very Dai Li leader he had once taken many steps against.

Everything became simple, suddenly. As far as needs went. As far as _ambitions_ went.

It was the umpteenth time company sought him out again. Maybe the third occurrence. Maybe the tenth. By then, Mako’s psyche was in shambles, insofar that he scarcely noticed the silhouette approach from that typical side of the room—and certainly even when they came to stand before him, blocking out the projected imagery for what may have been relief if it wasn’t all but permanently scorched into his head, he didn’t have it in him to react.

Some distant and buried recognition of it being Ju-long, perhaps: a simple assumption the inner workings of his brain could conjure even as those on the surface remained in a haze.

He did not meet the eyes zeroing in on him. Not by the defiance once blazing through every inch of his persona, but, quite simply, he could not even _see_ them. Even as an evident outline of a head cascaded over his view, it was naught but that: blurred, dark, features entirely indiscernible. Spots of black danced over his vision even then, almost in rhythm with the pounding in his head, but ignoring the swifter patter in his chest; _strange_ , how lethargic he felt, and yet how _alive_ his body insisted to be, combating every instinct to shut down.

A murmur bled through the cacophony that had become dreadfully natural to his ears: one voice again and again sifting through the noise, through the muddied waters, but never finding its footing in a mind too blank to decipher it. It felt so distant despite it being right in front of him. As if he was submerged in the same waters as his mind, the new sound echoed and was naught but garbled in every word.

Mako blinked sluggishly. For the first time in what felt like ages, his head moved, clear that the stone crowning it had been the only support when, suddenly so _heavy_ , it rolled forward. The scratch in his throat was beckoned when he made some sort of groan—maybe an endeavor to reply to the things he couldn’t even hear—but he did not then make any further attempts.

His anchors to the wall crumbled at the same time as he. No sooner than his legs were offered the chance to stand on their own, and his knees buckled, but he was caught by a pair of sturdy arms. Or, what he vaguely _assumed_ were arms, in that hazy cognizance of logic leading him to believe the figure before him was what now held his weight.

He could only distantly be bothered by the blunt press against his left arm, how it somehow ended up between him and the other so that it mangled itself in the flush of their bodies. The renewed wounds stung with complaint, but he hadn’t the energy to do much other than flinch—or, _apparently_ so, as the person keeping him on his feet seemed to hesitate and readjust their positioning as if they had seen some discomfort.

Not that any part of this was remotely comfortable to begin with.

Mako to a certain degree helped his… rescuer (if that’s what was happening right now). He pressed some of his weight onto his own legs despite how wobbly they protested, but could have actually made it _worse_ for the other, clumsy steps constantly sliding this way and that while an arm remained hooked around his middle to prevent fall after fall. So would be the reason he gathered strength in the uninjured arm to form a fist—albeit weak—on whatever manner of clothing he could find on the figure holding him.

It was redirected, though. As obvious as his prior flinch, every reaction was read as if there was nothing else in the world to focus on; the hook of his elbow was nudged so that it swung around broad shoulders and better kept him straight.

Only at that moment did he actually notice.

No, there _wasn’t_ anything else to focus on.

The noise that had become little else but a screech battering his ears had stopped, even if its ghost held its claim in a dull buzz within his own head. All flashing lights were gone, leaving dancing spots in their memory. Mako felt his support begin dragging him off in an indistinct direction. Again, he heard a voice he still struggled to reach.

But it didn’t matter; it wasn’t talking to him.

As there was a second voice this time—or maybe just the first time he actually could differentiate between them. They exchanged words that sounded as much incoherent as if in an entirely foreign language; thus, Mako didn’t even go for any endeavor in deciphering it.

The pair—or well, the _one_ with the other keeping his or her hands off—hauled Mako further still while they talked. He put all of his trust in the hands holding him, and obliged without any fuss to whatever shepherding motions he was given if it meant making this easier on either of them. There was no telling if they went up a ladder at some point, stairs, or even just a rocky slope, but he did at least know they were above ground.

And fresh air had never felt better on lungs filled with dust.

The sunlight, on the other hand… would take some warming up to.

Even if its brazen glare into bleary eyes didn’t give much chance for baby steps.

It was an immediate response, then, having no option otherwise. Literal light piercing through the smog, clean winds driving away all remnants of dirt with every breath, some semblance of his conscious shook itself free of a layer of webs. A disoriented, nowhere near clear conscious, but a start, nevertheless. Senses struck with new stimuli begged he use more of his mind than what had been needed as of late.

But his body had not yet caught up. More noticeable, now, as it was a task in itself to so much as lift his head from a forward slump. So he settled with rolling it.

And swung it at the perfect angle to catch the profile of his rescuer.

Who, surprisingly, _wasn’t_ nonsensically half-naked even with his hero status.

“Bo—” Mako began, promptly shut down by his own gravelly voice and a sting blossoming in its wake. The exhale breezing out next sounded much like a sigh, though with intentions only to soothe the prickling in his throat with resources so minimal. He quieted, electing to say no more while his brother steered him away.

If his trust hadn’t already laid itself bare for the taking, it did now under the knowledge of who he was with; suddenly, lethargy was seeping into every inch of body and mind. Nothing to keep him alert. Nothing to deny him the rest and restoration he desperately needed.

Without much recognition of it, he pressed himself even further against Bolin’s sturdy frame, answered only by brief startle before his weight was collected again.

“ _Okay_ , u-uhh… okay. Opal—?”

Mako felt himself being repositioned, but had no problem disregarding a clumsy bump against his wounded arm.

“Little help here? He’s… yeah, he’s going down. Checking out. Leaving the premis— _Mako!_ ”

Part of him wanted to help. Part of him, past the delirium gathering a new curtain of fog over any awareness daylight had recovered, heard the desperation and struggle in his brother’s voice. But those parts of him were nowhere near strong enough: stifled, and _fast_ , by an exhaustion so unlike that from before.

Now, comfortable and able to relax, he couldn’t shake it off.

In some way or another, Opal must have helped. Faintly, Mako took note of an even higher elevation, and the nest of striped fur now surrounding him. He was set down, propped up against some edge of what he gradually figured to be a saddle atop the sky bison’s back. With no arms supporting him, it wasn’t hard to sink down so that he was nearly lying flat.

“Where should we go?” Opal asked from afar. “Juicy isn’t exactly… inconspicuous.”

“Just—away from here. We’ll meet up with your brothers and Tu.”

A vibration through his newest perch alerted him to Bolin climbing on beside him even before any further comments made it through a dwindling wakefulness.

“All good; let’s go.” He spoke swift, to the point, the crashing of words into each other sure sign of his keen desire _not_ to be around when Mako’s captor returned to find him gone.

Even as he drifted off, he couldn’t help but agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuktuk saves the day! :D
> 
> But no really I'm so excited to be including Bolin and Opal in this story--along with a few other side characters we barely got to see in the show, but that grants me the perfect opportunity to give them some attention!
> 
> Sorry for Wu's persistent absence through the past several chapters (me, in the tags: lol this is a story about wuko and the dai li. me, writing: welp wu's just not in the story anymore). I promise he'll obviously be returning, but Mako's got a few more chapters to go through before he makes it there... I hope you'll forgive me!
> 
> Thanks again for the support! This has been super fun to write and really makes me happy to know people are enjoying it. :) 'til next time!


	15. Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys---as expected, I've fallen way behind on my chapters and have reached the point where I only have two (including this one) ready to post at the moment.
> 
> So, this means I'm pretty sure the schedule's going to fall out and I'll start posting chapters as I write them, which also probably means chapters will be more spaced out. I'm SUPER sorry about this!! I was trying so hard to stay on top of things and ensure there were no droughts, but I guess this is just where we're at now.
> 
> One more chapter coming on Sunday. Afterward, the rest of the chapters will show up spontaneously as I complete them. So sorry again! I appreciate how lovely all of you have been <3 Thanks a million!

Mako woke up an entire lifetime later.

Or, well… he’d argue it _felt_ like a lifetime.

As if he wasn’t disoriented enough before his eventual slip into a much-needed sleep, he was just as, if not _more_ so, now. Like rising from the dead, his consciousness sputtered into place after a long and strenuous struggle, marked by a series of continual blinking, well-placed grumbles as if cross with himself for waking in the first place, and a few puzzled looks back and forth to determine his residence in a room he was all too unfamiliar with.

At the back of his mind, he thought it a better scenario than what it could have been, but—even then, a sluggish trail of thoughts had yet to recall what worse “unfamiliar” territory he had endured prior to this.

Here, at least, he was in a bed. Under a blanket. Shielded from an imposing sun by curtains drawn across the window. Seemingly safe, even if he wasn’t sure from _what_ —

But, yeah, he must have died.

Somehow, the biggest challenge of all was attempting to move in the slightest; he tried to at least roll over, but a body simultaneously heavy as lead but feeble as jelly ached and groaned in protest. An arm shifted to bend beneath him, utilize an elbow as an anchor before lifting the rest of his weight, and yet—no, of course: he picked the exact wrong arm to use.

Once upon a time, it had been in a cast. Now, such would be the case all over again. Stiff as the limb was in its bandaging, a delirious Mako still managed to force it down on the cushion to in turn push himself up, but he faltered. Rather, flinched hard enough to immediately be back where he started, so sharp a sting piercing through his muscles and thus forcing any pressure be released.

Instinctively, that wounded arm tucked to his chest while he willed the residual ache to ebb. Pain, nevertheless, worked its magic as a good reminder of what had caused it. A good but _unpleasant_ reminder, memories trickling in to numb one thing only for so many others to emerge.

He wished they had stayed buried.

Because all it took was a single thought. A minuscule recollection of the countless hours— _days?_ —spent in that shoddy hole in the ground. The trickle evolved into a roar, and the sounds, the feelings, the _panic_ all at once kicked into gear.

He was hearing it again: a buzz like static both prickling in his ears and flashing behind his eyes. He felt it: the convulsing veins of his arm, blood being pushed and pulled in so many ways it shouldn’t. He saw it. He saw _him_ : Ju-long. And it haunted him as a face that struck visceral fear instead of the usual distrust and derision.

Thus, he was roused and urgently alert. A fight or flight response flared like stoked flames beneath his skin. Mako sprung upright. Energy—exhilaration—forged anew, his legs succeeded in one shot at hoisting a body gone frail.

He moved with revived purpose, stamina pumping in every beat of his heart even as a clumsy stumble toward the door proved some flimsiness in depleted muscles.

Only evidenced further when he essentially fell down the set of stairs in the hall beyond.

In the nick of time did a hand not subdued in layers of binding snag the handrail; while a series of thumps indicated he had missed and fumbled down a few steps, he caught himself before making a complete fall. The few extra bruises on shin and heel would be regarded later, and more or less in a frame of mind having him forget how he had gotten them in the first place.

While Mako righted himself, he heard someone from another part of the house.

“That didn’t sound good.”

Thereafter, a shuffling of footsteps that _weren’t_ tripping over themselves.

“Mako?” A new voice this time, though Mako had yet to turn toward it before it went on. “Mako! You’re awake! He’s awake, guys!”

At the same moment as he caught a glimpse of his brother out of the corner of his eye, Bolin had already lunged the distance between them, and wasted no time gathering him into a hug that, well, if he wasn’t hurting all over and currently running from his own thoughts, he would’ve been less averse to.

But he tensed in the hold. Frozen, at first, no different than a trapped animal. His brain remained what raced at high speeds while darting eyes roamed the modest establishment—searching, so it would appear, for something, if not merely trying to make sense of where he was. He couldn’t even notice his erratic breaths, nor the relentless clatter of a rhythm in his chest; a hum like electricity tingling through his mind blotched out everything.

And almost Bolin’s very face, seen when he relinquished his hold to study him.

“Hey, uhh—Mako?”

Mako didn’t meet his gaze. Panicked for reasons he couldn’t even grasp, his attention dared not linger on one point for long enough to allow anything catch him off-guard. _Anything_. Uncomfortable and cold as ice was the ceaseless crawling in his spine—as if expecting danger to jump out at any moment.

Ju-long. He expected Ju-long.

_Damn it._

“Where—” Mako’s breath came aflutter. “Where is he?”

Bolin thought for a moment. “—who?”

When a few new faces rounded the corner, Mako nearly jolted out of his skin: so _jumpy_ , and he absolutely hated himself for it.

Their cousin Tu stood at the front of the group, shadowed by twins it took him a moment to recognize as Opal’s brothers. In turn, even through thoughts tearing too fast to grasp, he wondered why they’d be here _without_ her—only for Opal herself to push her way through.

“Bolin,” she began, soft voice already soothing in contrast to the events leading him here, “he’s probably talking about who _did_ that to him.”

“Oh— _psh_ , yeah! Obviously; I knew that. I was just—”

“Well whoever ‘he’ is,” Tu interjected, “he’s not _here_ , so… We saved you.”

“‘We’?” Opal shot him a pathetic look, arms folding tight across her chest.

“Okay, _they_. As in… ‘Bolin and Opal,’ but it was still _me_ who—”

“All right, it doesn’t matter.”

Hands untucking from their refuge, she waved them in the air to silence the boys around her, and didn’t waste another moment before moving the few strides it took to reach Mako and Bolin’s continued embrace. Or, half, one-sided embrace that had turned into Bolin simply holding his brother at arm’s length to study him as if he were a foreign object.

“Don’t you think this is a little overwhelming, guys? C’mon,” she said over her shoulder, and halted in her approach once she stood by Bolin’s side. A previously scornful leer transformed to be tender when a pair of meadow green eyes found those still reluctant to rest on a single point, but Mako’s incessantly moving stare hesitated in passing hers.

He took in a larger breath, having then realized how shallow all those prior had been.

Opal politely ushered her boyfriend off to the side to claim his position, and with only a trace of reluctance did his grip slide from dual perches on Mako’s upper arms. For a fleeting second, Mako missed the contact; it had, maybe, been what kept him somewhat in the present, grounded and not completely drowning in himself. But Opal extended her own in an almost immediate reprieve.

Something gentler, but _purposeful_ in the way her hands first secured his shoulders, then dug in with a small squeeze. “Mako,” she uttered patiently, but nevertheless beaming confidence. “Tu’s right, okay? You’re safe now; no one here is going to hurt you.”

_Safe?_

Okay, yeah—fair, he could accept that and know it was the truth even in this discombobulated mess; in the presence of friends and family, he stood a better chance than he had alone. Hell, that was the _point_ wasn’t it? So set on thinking he had to do everything without anyone else’s help… look where that got him.

“Idiot” was a bit too nice of a word to use on himself, but the cleanest of several which hissed behind his teeth.

But that didn’t remain the issue here. That _wasn’t_ what bothered him, and what kept him on his toes, heart still tripping over itself and stomach churning as nauseating as his head spun. _He_ was safe. _Fine_ , for the most part, once a mind much too out of sorts found its bearings (however long that would take). _He_ —it wasn’t _him_ he was worried about.

No, it was never him.

This was, from the very beginning, every step of the way, about Wu. All of his efforts, all of his frustrations, and this newfound anxiety product of a mental state gone fragile and abused—he was trying to protect him. For _once_. He had to be there, no fathoming failing him again.

Unless he already had.

He wasn’t there at his side like he should be.

_That was the problem._

Righting himself with a shake of his head—like he could rid the buzz as if it were a physical bug hovering by his ear—Mako pushed past Opal, his free arm steering her out of his path. “I have to get back to the palace.”

Opal didn’t fight him at first, easily moving off beside Bolin. But when she caught his words, a hand seized the bend of his elbow. “Whoa, wait!” Mako paused, but didn’t look back. “You shouldn’t go _anywhere_ just yet! Not until you’ve recovered.”

Bolin presented his own point. “Or at least gone to the bathroom.”

“Look, I don’t have time to—”

He hesitated, taken aback enough to turn and level his brother with a quizzical stare.

Bolin held his hands up passively. “Hey, you slept for like fifteen whole hours—and you’re telling me you aren’t dying to pee? Im _press_ ive, big bro. Unless you…” Realization struck, blatant across his face as he leaned in to share a secret, murmured, “You didn’t wet the bed, did you?”

“No—!” Mako twisted around fully. “Bolin, this is—this is _serious_ , bro. I _need_ to get back as soon as I can, or… I don’t even know: _maybe_ nothing, but that’s not the point.”

A sigh riddled the air, interwoven with a groan while his hand coursed through unkempt locks. He wrestled with too many questions whirling rampant in his thoughts, and claimed a silence to attempt at organizing them. On an exhale meant to pacify himself, he faced the group as coolly as he could.

“How many days has it been? Do you guys know? Since I was… _not_ at the palace? Where even are we right now?”

“Oh, oh!” Bolin perked, seemingly eager to provide. “Uhh— _not_ sure about the ‘how many days’ thing? But, umm, Prince, no… President? _Wu_ sent out kind of a distress call—sort of. Not officially; more like…”

“He got in contact with the towns throughout the Earth Kingdom,” Opal finished, and was appraised by vigorous nodding from her boyfriend. “I think the ones you guys were ‘cleansing,’ right? Either way, he sent out a message when you went missing; Tu heard about it—was it almost a week ago?”

She glanced at him for approval, who nodded before explaining.

“Yeah. Trying to get the family back to Ba Sing Se now that things are better.” He crossed his arms. “This house is just a temporary thing for me. Pretty decent, though, right?”

Mako’s brows pinched at the irrelevance of the information, but before he could demand he reach a point, Tu got to it on his own.

“Word spread that Wu’s ‘strapping bodyguard’ had gone missing. I heard. Figured his brother would like to know, so I contacted Zaofu—”

Hastily, Bolin added, “Opal and I were visiting her folks! Not sure if you knew that… did I tell you?”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Finally, Mako found a way to get his own word in, and he waved the hand that wasn’t bound in the air between them. “Hold on, _Wu_ sent out a message looking for me? Did he—? How?”

“It’s not really an elaborate science,” Tu remarked.

Within a huff of frustration, “I _know that_ ; I just meant—that doesn’t make any sense.”

He pivoted away from the conversation, fingers now resting contemplatively on his chin. _Why_ would that happen? Why would Ju-long _let_ him reach out for help—draw attention to Mako’s absence while he had gone through the measures to stow him away? Isolated, down in a _hole_ in the ground where no one would find him—why wouldn’t he then take the precautions to ensure Wu not worry and raise alarm?

Excuses were something he was good at. Manipulation as easy as breathing, Ju-long would’ve had no problem _surely_ with crafting a neat little lie for the president, and with no loose ends to be traceable. Something to avoid panic and anyone ever finding him.

So what was _this?_

Some part of his plan? Some part of his game?

_Did he_ want _this to happen?_

Mako didn’t even notice his own muttering, low and under his breath while he paced a short back-and-forth in the minimal space available. Completely removed from the discussion, it took another touch to his shoulder to direct him back, and he ventured a sidelong glance to the initiator.

“Talk to us, Mako,” Bolin said, steadfast and stern. “I know you’re all about doing everything alone, but whether you like it or not, you have us, now. And we aren’t really planning on letting you go play ‘hero’ without some sidekicks.”

Breath for a moment robbed from his lungs—unremitting mutters leaving no room to inhale—Mako only then seized a mouthful of air. He let it out slower, and for the first time was capable of holding his brother’s pointed look. Unwavering and _relaxed_ , if even by the smallest degree.

Bolin released his hold to shrug. “I mean, _yeah_ , I guess I’m usually the hero, but… for you, brother, I’ll play the sidekick this time.”

An eyeroll answered him. “How selfless of you.”

And, truly, as if it _was_ the most selfless act, Bolin waved him off with faux modesty, but that which was predecessor only to the offering of that same hand. Extending in the short distance between them, fingers splayed and ready, Mako faltered for hardly a blink.

He grasped it firm and pulled his brother forward.

A half-hug he couldn’t really accomplish with his injury, but obvious enough for Bolin to supply it on his own.

In a single step back, Mako regarded the rest of the group, and he nodded a silent compliance to whatever help they had and would offer. He’d need it, he knew. Desperately. And _admittedly_ , setting his exclusive self-reliance aside long enough to allow it.

“I’ll explain everything, but—”

Now it hit him, chased by a rolling growl from the empty pit of his stomach.

“You… wouldn’t happen to have a _ton_ of food, would you?”


	16. Team Avatar Without the Avatar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, guys!! Last one until I kick my ass into gear and finish the others.  
> Sorry again for this--I do appreciate those of you who are still with me!

“Okay, so, tying it all up in a nice and neat bow reeking with betrayal; or maybe not so much—? Since you were expecting it? But”—Bolin leaned back in his seat, setting one foot atop the opposite knee while he began counting off fingers of points he expressed next—“Ju-long is bad. The Dai Li are bad. When have they ever _not_ been bad? And why do we keep trusting them like that’ll _change_ anytime soon? _Seriously_ —hasn’t that just always been the case? Do they just… breed evil people, or is it more like an ‘evil people convention’ under the guise of ‘secret police’?”

They were seated around a table, now, having given Mako the sustenance he urgently needed (and ensuring he didn’t eat too much to make himself sick) while hearing the end of his tales of woe broken up between ravenous bites. In the middle of pushing an unfinished bowl of rice aside, on the verge of nausea for a body unaccustomed to food despite their efforts, he shook his head at his brother’s summary, and released a heavy breath reminiscent of a sigh.

“Beats me, bro.”

“What is it with this _power_ obsession, anyway? It’s like Kuvira all over again but… with less metalbending and more… bloodbend-y, brainwash-y creepiness.”

“Well,” Opal offered, though stood up to help their host just now wandering over to the sink. “Good thing we’re well-acquainted with people like that. Right, Bolin?”

Mako didn’t see her expression while she collected their dirty dishes, but the sheepish hunch of his brother’s shoulders made it pretty obvious she still took opportunities to hold _that_ little gem over his head.

“Hey—! Kuvira was…” He might’ve tried to argue, though thought against it in the softening of his tone while he collapsed further in on himself.

Better to just let that lie.

“Yeah, but—here’s the thing; I don’t think Wu has _any_ idea,” Mako said. “At least he’s not—he’s never made it _seem_ like he does. C’mon, guys; you know him. Ju-long’s already taken advantage of how gullible he is. He’s been doing it from the very beginning. He’s planned… _everything_ out, and most of it’s worked in his favor in one way or another.”

“Well that’s _easy_ , then.” One of Opal’s brothers made the remark, though to this day Mako couldn’t tell if it was Wing or Wei.

“We kick the Dai Li’s butts and call it a day,” the other finished. Wei? That one had to be Wei.

“‘Kick their butts’?” Opal repeated, a quizzical brow arched as she returned to the table. “Wing—”

That would’ve been his second guess.

“—we can’t just barge in and attack them like that.”

“Why not?” Tu asked, and he raised his voice to be heard over the running water. “Seems pretty sound to me.”

Though Opal took in a breath to defend her side, Mako beat her to it.

“No, she’s right.” He ran a hand across his forehead, rubbing hard at the ghost of a headache before slumping back, folding his arm over the injured. “Ju-long’s always one step ahead, and knowing that, he’s probably noticed I’m gone, knows I’m going to try to come back, and has his little minions all over the city keeping an eye out for me; especially the monorail. I don’t think there’s going to be any… ‘barging in.’”

“Aw, c’mon, Mako!” Bolin sat up to prod a playful elbow into his side. “If we can break into the crazy Earth Queen’s—rest in peace—underground _slave_ camp of airbenders, I think we can sneakity sneak our way to the palace no problem.”

“ _Sneak_ our way in? Bo, we need passports to get _anywhere_ in the city—”

“I think I can hustle up a few again,” Tu suggested while he dried his hands to rejoin the conversation.

“No, that’s not the—We _have_ passports, we just would be identified the very second we pulled them out, and—Look, not to mention that there’ll be Dai Li agents crawling around every station looking for me; putting on a hat or hood or any sort of cover to make me ‘anonymous’ isn’t going to do much but draw attention, and if not _then_ , then it will when—”

“Yeah, yeah: when you show off your passport—but I never _said_ we’d take the monorail,” Bolin prompted.

He was being coy, now, what with that satisfied grin slinking across his face all the wider the longer everyone else stared to encourage he get to his point. Some form of validation he’d milk as long as he could, Mako knew, and thus was what caused him to square his brother with an impatient frown.

“ _Okay_ , bro. What’s your brilliant idea?”

“You see that? See?” Bolin’s gaze swiftly scanned everyone else while he pointed with excitement at Mako. “ _He’s_ not the only one with ideas.” Then, collecting himself, “We have—one, two, three—four earthbenders, and a city that—supposedly—has tunnels through its entirety, right? Connecting all the rings together? _Underground._ ”

The conversation wasted no time evolving into a debate, not a second spent even thinking over what Bolin had suggested before Tu had to challenge it with some remark about walking the whole of Ba Sing Se on foot being bad enough above ground. Which then evolved into Wei arguing that it would technically only be half of the city to get to the center. Opal chimed in, voicing a concern about the underground passages being more of a maze than anything else, and how long it would take them to navigate it.

Mako…

Well, he remained the only one in complete silence while they discussed.

Because he took Bolin’s suggestion seriously. Because he had in fact already and unconsciously decided he’d go through whatever measures necessary to get back to Wu as soon as possible. Because he worried, maybe now more than ever, what tighter hold Ju-long had, what more he could do in Mako’s continued absence to win the president over to his side. Because he worried. Because he failed him too many times. Because he couldn’t bear being too late again.

Because he was _sick_ of disappointing people.

They all brought up good points, that which he heard distantly in the ruckus of his own thoughts. He didn’t reckon there were any straightforward paths, or that it’d be a simple stroll that wouldn’t drive them utterly mad within hours of being in pure darkness, but what he _did_ reckon was that it was… strangely their _best_ _bet_. The fleeting thought of dropping in from the back of a flying bison was extinguished almost instantly by the reasoning of how obvious it was: maybe the more logical and less-likely-to-suffocate-underground way, but the discreet and not-painting-a-target-on-them way.

After all, Ju-long was always ready. Always spinning things to his advantage. Always finding a way to come out on top, no matter the amount of lies and scheming it took to do so.

Just once—

_Damn_ , Mako wanted to get the jump on him.

_Just once._

“Wait, hold on: _do_ we have four earthbenders? I’ve never seen _him_ so much as bend a pebble.”

Resurfacing to the present, Mako managed to hear that digression just as Wing gestured almost accusingly at Tu, and was supported by his twin making some sound of agreement. Tu had made it back to the table by then, though remained standing to conveniently feign some authority over the situation. He was appalled for a meager breath before all but snapping.

“Hey, I can bend! We could all go outside right now and I’d show you—up close and personal, if you want a demonstration.” Tu planted a hand on the table to lean toward them. “I just haven’t wanted to _embarrass_ any of you when you see how good I am.”

Wing bounced to his feet, a provoking grin curved high on his face. “You’re on!”

He and his brother had already begun to weave their way toward the foyer—with a shocked (was he bluffing?) Tu not yet processing enough to follow—when Mako finally entered the conversation again. Loud and vague enough to recapture their attention.

“Let’s do it.”

Wei nearly bumped into Wing as he peered back. “Uhh—it’s an earthbending thing. Unless you… want us to throw rocks at you? We _will_ —”

Mako met his stare pathetically. “No, not… _no one_ is throwing rocks at _anyone_ ; I meant Bolin’s plan.” A flick of his gaze to the mentioned. “We’re gonna do it.”

They all paused at first, moments passing before the twins moved to rejoin the group (and Tu let out a breath of relief). Bolin was the first to breach the silence, not that it surprised anyone, as he let out an abrupt cheer and landed a hearty slap on his brother’s shoulder.

“Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about!”

Mako tried not to make it obvious he was still weak, but that hand _hurt_ more than it should.

“Team Avatar back in action!” Bolin looped an arm around him and tugged him close. “Without the Avatar! But—We’ll be unstoppable again!”

“Except we _were_ stoppable—and can _still_ be, so”—he tried to be stern, though definitely couldn’t deny that rekindling of warmth in his chest—“we gotta take this seriously, okay? Especially if Ju-long still has his pet bloodbender on a leash.”

“ _Psh_ , nahhh—c’mon! You dealt with the biggest baddest bloodbender ages ago; that’s old news now.”

Which Mako would’ve argued he got _lucky_ , but.

Opal saved him from going into that spiel.

“Okay, so… You’re the boss, Mako. You know more about what to expect than we do. What’s the plan? And I don’t just mean ‘find the tunnels and cross our fingers we don’t get lost.’”

“Well”—Mako wriggled out of his brother’s hold to scoot forward—“we have four earthbenders, I guess?” He gave Tu a questioning look, but didn’t wait for any response. “An airbender and her bison. And a… _very_ ticked off firebender who… might not be the happiest about going underground, but he feels safe knowing the majority of his group can get him out in a blink.”

A smirk slowly eased across his face.

“I think we’ll do just fine.”

His confidence, however, did waver some, as if struck with a sudden realization of his own assumptions that set him plowing ahead. In a contrasting sheepishness, his attention petered to the side, and a hand sought refuge upon his nape while he mentally backtracked.

“Uhh, that is… I mean, you guys have already done _enough_ , so it’s only if—”

“Mako!” Bolin was doing the scolding, now, though sounding off as more of a whine. “We already talked about this. You don’t get to be Mister Big-and-Tough, I-Don’t-Get-Help-From-Anyone guy this time. _Nope!_ Nu-uh. We’re all in this now… I think—right, guys?”

And, shockingly enough, there was no hesitation. From _anyone_. Not even the slightest lick. In what appeared to be complete unison, his cousin, his brother’s girlfriend, _her_ brothers all gave their promise in their own ways: from nods to thumbs-up to verbalized accordance.

Mako looked at each and every one of them, his relief palpable in a trailing exhale.

“Well, alright.”

He shouldn’t have been so surprised (really, why _would_ they leave him to do any of this alone?), but it struck him, still. And the smile that shaped his lips thereafter was more genuine than any had been in quite some time.

He composed himself, then gave them a firm nod.

“We’ll leave tonight.”


	17. Into the Labyrinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -insert triumphant music as trashmallow joins the party-
> 
> What is UP, guys? Woweeee. A million apologies for dropping off the face of the planet (but this is typical for me so oof thank goodness I'm not trying to manage more than one fic right now or they'd all be suffering). But here I am! Finally back with a new chapter!
> 
> I feel a lil rusty. I've been writing, but obviously different characters, so I'm not 100% confident with my characterization in this chapter, but I'm easing back into it and hoping it'll come more naturally as I set my mind to it.
> 
> The good news: I know how I want the end to go. It's all planned. All outlined. Ready to go.  
> The bad news: I'm still lazy and motivation is #rough so who knows how long it'll take me but GOSH
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience, all the same! You readers are the best!!!
> 
> 'til next time!

The spirits must have equally been on Mako’s side as much as his friends, for if heading out in the darkness of night wasn’t helpful enough in providing them the cover they needed, an overcast weighted with rain had blanketed the end of their journey from small town to Ba Sing Se’s outer wall. Team Avatar (without the Avatar) had clustered in aboard Juicy’s back, and though skimming through the clouds set a dampness upon all of them, it became the preferred over a possibility of being spotted by any of the guards alert at their stations.

They were able to go farther than the original plan. As excruciatingly long as an underground trek through half of the city would be, Mako had at first established that as their safest approach: from the first wall all the way in to the palace’s establishment at the center. But they took advantage of the gloomy weather, remained masked in the atmosphere until the clouds thinned enough to no longer be useful, and by then—?

The city was upon them, having successfully flown past the expanse of farmland in between.

A journey cut down immensely, but Mako knew this was where difficulties actually _began_ ; he was ready for it. And in fact had grown restless being in the air as long as they were. By the time Juicy was reeled into a stationary position at the edge of their last remaining protection, he was leaning far over the saddle to get a better look at their whereabouts: that daunting stone wall just ahead and no doubt manned by even more guards than the last.

Opal stood up from her perch atop her bison’s head, and with a fluid wave of her arms gathered more of the clouds around them to better ensure their concealment as they went forward with their plan.

“I’ll go down and see if we have a good blind spot between posts,” she said at the same time as she tapped Bolin to take over Juicy for her.

No hesitation involved—she had done this a thousand times by now—and Opal plummeted from their elevation, a streak of crimson bleeding through the gloom. While Bolin clambered over to claim her prior position, Mako kept an eye on her descent, and that on the wall for any sign of movement giving evidence that they had been seen.

“If she can just bend clouds around us, then why aren’t we doing _that_ to get to the palace?” he heard one twin remark to fill the quiet.

“Because the wind’s going the _opposite_ way, idiot,” the other chastised, and through such provoked the smallest bustle Mako didn’t even have to turn around to recognize as playful shoving between siblings.

He hastily shushed them just as a swift and obviously manipulated breeze brought Opal back.

“Still good?” she asked, hands busy with the buttons on her wingsuit while her gaze darted over her shoulder in search of the same thing Mako had been observing.

A soundless nod answered her.

And Bolin exclaimed—in an excitable whisper—something about her being a “stealth master” before she rejoined him and steered them several lengths to the left. Hardly much of a “blind spot” when they were up in the sky, but that, after all, was what nighttime travel was for. And what their dark attire was for. And why they would now individually be more or less leaping to their deaths to a point on the ground that _would_ be a blind spot… when they reached it.

Luckily for them, they had an airbender to cushion their falls. Which just meant each of them had to jump _without_ yelling at the top of their lungs. Tu almost did, had his initial yelp not been cut off by what Mako assumed to be him literally biting on his own tongue. Mako himself had a bit of a rougher time than usual, clumsier when he couldn’t use both arms to right his balance and ensure he not faceplant even with Opal’s help.

But after those tense moments (and another reassurance that they remained unseen), they on foot closed in on the towering wall. And thus had the journey underground left to make.

Finding the already excavated tunnels was no difficult feat. As it turned out, there were plenty of them: a blessing when it came to giving the earthbenders less work in digging their way down to one, and a curse on the other hand as far as navigation went. When they dropped in on a thankfully wide passage, Mako claimed the lead with a light source at the palm of his hand, licking eagerly at stale and stifling air.

He paid no mind to the conditioned alarm kicking into gear across the whole of his physique: how a once calm drum in his chest fumbled into a hastened rhythm that tripped every few beats; how his lungs withered with each inhale, every expelled breath on a minuscule tremble; how that damned buzzing niggled at the back of his mind again, a phantom in his ears.

He set his thoughts to his task and swallowed down what instinct drove his body into a contrasting panic: something he didn’t have _time_ for. Not when he had to ensure they stayed on the right path to the palace. Not when he needed—he _wanted_ —to get back to Wu as soon as possible.

A drive that was so much stronger than his fear.

_That_ was what Ju-long horribly underestimated.

No one talked initially. As if they were sworn to silence even down in the depths, or otherwise too focused for idle chatter, the whispering crackles of Mako’s fire and shuffling of careful feet were their only accompaniment along their travel. Much like his previous confinement, time wasn’t the easiest thing to discern. Easi _er_ , yes, when his psyche wasn’t being hammered and beaten into submission, but he still couldn’t tell if it had been half an hour until hesitant chatter began to rise. An hour. Over an hour.

Mainly between Wing and Wei at first; he discerned their voices but cared too little to pay attention. Then, slowly, Opal and Bolin either joined or started a conversation of their own. Voices still hushed, but echoing nevertheless off of spacious walls (which Mako had made sure _remained_ spacious, as he so pointedly avoided the narrow pathways through which mere glimpses yanked his stomach into his throat).

He preoccupied himself as leader of the team, and certainly wasn’t letting anything cause a distraction that would hinder their progress.

But Tu was the only one aside from him that hadn’t piped up.

And that was because only then, out of the corner of Mako’s eye, his cousin approached to walk at his side—talk directly _to_ him.

“Y’know what I don’t get?” Tu started, and to which Mako only cast him a glance without any word to permit he go on.

“You go through all of this for Wu’s sake, right? Torture, confronting the Dai Li, risking your own skin to protect him and all that.” His arms were crossed, but his fingers tapped against his skin as he counted off his list. “But even through all that loyalty and devotion or whatever you want to call it—you really haven’t expressed anything but doubt in him.”

So much for no distractions: Mako’s steps slowed.

He turned his head fully to look at Tu, and was sure the surprise was transparent enough on his face without then providing a “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Tu went on. “All I’ve heard from you about everything has centered on Wu being oblivious and ‘gullible’ and entirely incapable of taking care of himself. I mean”—he shrugged—“I guess I could believe it knowing what I know about ‘im, but it’s just strange coming from you.”

He met Mako’s confounded stare, which was all the “loyal” bodyguard needed to instantly avert his gaze and clear his throat discreetly.

_Shamefully._

“Why would you so senselessly support someone you don’t even believe in?”

Mako hadn’t even come close to opening his mouth to reply, and yet Tu still couldn’t help adding the afterthought:

“—and don’t say it’s ‘your job.’ This went way past _that_ point a long time ago. I’m not stupid.”

Apparently not, if even Mako hadn’t considered how unfair he had been from the beginning of this _mess_ he was now digging himself out of.

_Didn’t **believe** in him? _He… of _course_ he believed in him. More than anyone, Wu had his support, and—okay, maybe not from the _very_ start, but definitely _now_ —he trusted his judgment as a leader the Earth Kingdom desperately needed. More importantly, as a _friend_ (or a… what were they at this point?). Sure, he had his “doubts.” He had an awareness of Wu’s weaknesses and shortcomings as well as anyone in a close relationship would; it wasn’t like he didn’t also know Bolin’s and Bolin didn’t also know _his_.

This was just him… being protective on that front, wasn’t it? Understanding Wu’s flaws and making up for them with more diligence from his side?

That didn’t mean he—

Well, then why was he having to convince _himself_ of his good intentions?

“This whole plan of yours is under the assumption Wu has no idea what’s going on, isn’t it?” When a long enough lull crossed the threshold between them, Tu took charge again. “But how can you even know he’s unaware when you haven’t given him the chance to prove otherwise?”

Mako didn’t know what he wanted to say, managing only one syllable of an attempt before his cousin cut him off.

“He sent out a search party for you, didn’t he? I feel like someone ‘oblivious’ to everything around him wouldn’t have been so concerned about his guard’s disappearance. What’s one less guard to royalty, right?”

In the reprieve of silence that followed (really, it was like he was being _interrogated_ ), Mako opened his mouth several times without actually succeeding in summoning any words. Gut reaction prompted he defend himself: whether that meant defending his own actions as having no implications toward Wu’s lacking abilities or that they were in fact meant to protect—to not get him so deeply involved in what Mako insisted he could fix all on his own.

That maybe they had nothing to do with a disbelief in Wu, but all to do with his incessant stubbornness that he didn’t need anyone’s _help_. Again with having to prove himself. Again with his isolation.

He didn’t have enough time to think of a reply—probably never _would_ have, no matter how long Tu’s patience lasted waiting for one. When Tu’s attention was beckoned by Wing and Wei (probably more mischievous provocation, if his cousin’s raised voice was any indication), Mako was left to his circling thoughts: and, _man_ , did they circle. Dizzying, actually, as they went round and around, every grievance chased away by an excuse that only was then nipped at the heels by another self-criticism.

Because if that’s what _Tu_ saw…

Was Wu seeing the same exact thing and therefore belittled by it?

Mako needed to start keeping a list of the items he had to later apologize for.

Which was just one more thing to keep his mind alert and his body in check as they went on through the labyrinth. He reckoned conversation was what kept his companions sane in a seemingly endless trek veiled in darkness and dust; fewer and fewer as moments of quiet became, it seemed only necessary that someone be talking to avoid thinking too hard about how much time had passed since they were above ground. Mako wanted to believe he was _used_ to this, after what he had been put through, but…

His pattering heart disagreed wholly with that.

And he couldn’t tell, after what felt like hours later, if his reasoning that they had almost (or in fact _had_ ) reached the palace was just desperation to climb back to the surface or actually true. Decidedly, it didn’t matter—they all needed a literal breather—and so began the mining of their own path upward to check: and in turn guarantee they had their bearings before moving forward. (Shouldn’t they have hit something by now? Reached the prison block, maybe?)

As they all took the chance to rest (aside from the twins who began work on a trail sloping to ground level), they, for the first time since heading down there, weren’t alone.

Because just then did a hum of a voice belonging to no one of their team slither playfully through the tunnels, reverberating from every wall to make its whereabouts indecipherable. Unmistakably, Mako knew who it came from, and by that mere knowledge alone did he tense, step up protectively to a vigilant Opal’s side as she squinted into the darkness.

“Uhhh—could we get some light?” Wei called back when their torch retreated, but Mako didn’t budge.

Movement from a slim path to the side invited both his and Opal’s attention, thereafter Bolin and Tu’s at the instant the culprit spoke.

“Little firebender,” the figure sing-songed.

Mako’s fingers flexed—or rather _flinched_ —around his flame.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Bathed in light that expelled the shadows from her face, Mako saw that haunting crescent of a grin across Jeza’s lips: lopsided along with the serpentine cant of her head. He chose not to retreat— _wouldn’t_ —but she interpreted his comfort levels all the same, and through such did she come to a halt only when she was in a proximity to sustain a steady flow of ice through his veins.

The bridge of her nose pinched with a wickedness that _wasn’t_ charming.

“I don't believe we finished our _game._ ”


	18. A Tedious Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well~  
> Since you lovelies have been so patient and sweet waiting through my long hiatus, here's another chapter in quick succession to make up for it!  
> (don't get too excited; I'm sure my next chapter will take longer, but)
> 
> I'm redirecting my focus to other creative works over the next couple of days, but I should be able to leap back into writing this sometime next week and therefore hopefully (key word) not make you guys wait TOO long for another one!
> 
> Thanks again so much for your continued patience and support with this! You guys are the BEST!!!

Frankly, Mako was getting properly sick of these little “games” of hers—of being her choice toy like there was anything so special about him that kept her coming back. (Though who was he kidding? This wasn’t her. This was Ju-long through and through: the puppeteer setting his prize hound on the hunt. Again one step ahead. _Again._ What would it take to throw this guy off?)

He was tired. He was impatient. He was cranky.

And, damn, did he want fresh air. Damn that she had encountered them when his countenance was on the verge of crumbling and he could no longer ignore that clumsy beat in the hollow of his chest: like his heart would sooner break from its cage and leave him behind if he didn’t do something first about it.

Mako disguised it only behind an agitated leer pinning that manic delight aglow in her flashing eyes. He felt the dread like coils of static bound across his skin, but held his ground nevertheless. A ground he now shared; he wasn’t alone.

But he did in fact despise himself for instinctively tucking that injured arm just a smidge closer to his chest.

_Don’t you dare._

“How’s the arm?” Jeza purred, the flick of her gaze evidence of her making note of that otherwise inconspicuous shift. Something about her wasn’t quite as unhinged as before; no, only in that eager twinkle of her gilded stare did that craziness he knew so well prick through a startling composure.

She was relaxed. Calm. And would seem a lot more human in that nonchalant swing of her hip that met the palm she perched on it if Mako didn’t know better—didn’t know how merciless and wobbly her mentality was.

But did that stop him from wisecracking?

Obviously not.

“Great. How’s the face?”

Out of his peripheral he saw Opal give him a look that… actually reminded him a bit of his former chief of police.

Not that he could take the words back now, and—stupidly or not—he was at least pleased with the result: that barely visible spark of vexation to tarnish her façade (something he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it). Egging on a bloodbender was another _not_ smart idea to tally on to the many as of late, but he took small victories where he could find them.

—or maybe was putting that effort into stalling her while the twins continued their digging.

_Hurry up._

He wanted _out_.

And he wanted out with a desperation increasing tenfold every second spent, that dormant panic—nothing short of trauma, he knew and resented—bubbling up by her mere presence. Like there were _two_ catalysts, now… what would happen, then, if Ju-long marched on in to join them?

Dumb move. A dull throb mounted between his eyes, and perplexingly the muted flickering of his fire began to bother him out of seemingly nowhere; he blinked hard, deliberately held the flame back from his line of sight.

“I’m no expert,” Jeza finally filled the quiet, lazily rolling one shoulder to shrug, “but I do think the healers performed competently.” Which had to be true, clean skin making it so that it looked like he had not damaged her at _all_. “I suppose your fire isn’t quite _hot_ enough, hm?” Another grin danced across her mouth. “Care for a closer look, _inspector_?”

It wasn’t a choice (of course it wasn’t), and so through knowing this did Mako at least anticipate the distance closing between them. Braced himself to avoid a flinch when, in a single beat, she stood on his toes as if she had simply _appeared_ there. And all at once evoked an uproar of both Opal and Bolin bending their elements to protect their resident firebender.

They worked together well, not a word exchanged for Opal to blast a gust that knocked Jeza to the side, and Bolin thereafter to use the environment to his advantage in shackling her to the stone against which she crashed. Hardly a sound from her: no cry of surprise, no grunt upon contact, no frustrated gripes by her newfound position; Jeza had simply just… let it happen.

And only anchored to the tunnel wall did an eventual bark of sharp laughter hail them.

“Oh, _good_!” she snickered. The mania was returning fast. “All so _eager_ to begin that you can’t even wait your turn. Have _none_ of you any manners?”

“Well.” Bolin strolled up to his brother’s side, brushing his hands together like he had physically touched the dusty rocks themselves. “Unless you can do your creepy bloodbendy weirdness on stone, I think the game’s sort of _done_ , isn’t it?”

Jeza blinked with a smile that did not falter. “Oh, he’s _cute_.” Her attention skirted back to Mako, but he had troubles holding it for far different reasons.

Those that… well, _she’d_ be the one picking up on.

Within another soft and thoughtful hum, accompanied by what minimal stretching she could do with her arms pinned behind her, she surveyed him for a great many moments—all while his own restlessness was getting the best of him.

A fidgeting of his weight between his feet kept in erratic time to the darting of his gaze over their surrounding walls: those that deceptively felt as though they _shrunk_ toward him, and thus spurred a tightness in his chest. There was something dizzying, now, about everything. No longer could he even look anywhere without that constantly changing glow of his palm’s flame flashing too oppressively in his view, inviting a response he had long been attempting to choke.

He didn’t have time for this.

On a shuddering exhale, Mako pivoted from the group. His bound arm lifted just enough to wipe across his forehead, push back on the pressure beating through his skull and creating a ring in his ears.

_He didn’t have time for this._

It was a single goal in mind, ignoring everything else, that brought him to the twins and their excavation. In almost a trance, stooping past the cousin who offered a bewildered look, Mako went to join them: hell, find a way to _help_ them if it meant getting out.

But, yeah. _Right._

Why would anything suddenly be made _easy_?

His balance trembled at the exact moment as the earth around them, and yet opposite to Wei and Wing’s work was the source. Mako peered over his shoulder in sync with the rest of his companions, fog of a hysteria he held in check thinning only to determine the culprit(s). And in doing so, a fresh wave of exhaustion smothered much of his resolve.

Out of the stone marched a line of unambiguous Dai Li agents, amounting to a total of four by the time the wall closed back up behind them. Hesitation—maybe a realization that their friends may need help—paused the twins’ effort, but by meeting Wing’s gaze did Mako encourage they continue, and he thereafter move to meet the newcomers.

They had to already know what was going on (they were _earthbenders_ , after all), but if he could buy them even a minute of time to better establish a hasty escape as needed…

_Very_ needed, now.

And not even for his own safety more than it was his _sanity_ —

“Ju-long looking for his lost pet?” He tried to banish the frailty from his voice, fixing the agents with a stern (if not irritated) look. “Might wanna try keeping her on a _leash_.”

From her restraints, Jeza giggled. “ _Me?_ ” she snorted. “I do believe _you’re_ the lost little mutt who’s escaped: all bark and no bite.”

One of the Dai Li moved his arm in a swift jab, its purpose determined by Jeza casually stepping away from her bonds, flexing both wrists to free them from an ache of confinement. Bolin didn’t engage in detaining her again, but he watched. Like a hawk, and ever more on edge, they held their grounds with focuses varying on just who they deemed the bigger threat.

Mako’s attention for the most part did not sway from Jeza.

And hers from him.

“Look at you,” she crooned, “acting all big and strong even while your tail is tucked tight between your trembling legs. Still playing the part of ‘unbreakable,’ sweet thing? I wonder _now_ …” Her approach was slower this time, mellow and assuring that his loyal companions not attack her again. “Just _what_ are you trying to prove? And to _whom_?”

He pressed his lips tight, thinning them into a sturdy line like he hoped to compensate for the instability of the rest of him. Putting on a show, no doubt, and with any luck one he had convinced his “team” of, until Jeza saw fit to bring it up.

“You’re not still doing this all for _him_ , are you?” She came to a halt several feet away, and humor pranced across her features. “There is a point, y’know, when loyalty becomes less admirable and more stupid.”

And—maybe it was no shock to anyone, not even himself, but—that might’ve been the one subject she could address that he knew an answer to. That he didn’t have to drown in his own thoughts puzzling and laboring over why the hell he did _anything_. Maybe it was the only thing he remained so damn sure of in the chaos of everything else that it didn’t even take a second’s consideration. He just, piloted by instinct, levelled her provocation without a cringe; for a fleeting trip of a beat in his chest, capable of speaking without a shiver in his breath.

“No. This isn’t one of those cases.”

His expression on its own urged that she _fight_ him if she dared think otherwise.

Tail between his legs or not.

“Now get out of my way.” He took advantage of his spell of fortitude to move a pace toward her. “Or I’ll make sure to burn your _entire_ face this time.”

Intimidation that _she_ wasn’t too concerned about (or otherwise was thrilled to have been presented with), but enough to cause Ju-long’s lackeys to close in on a stroke of caution. Their stances were as stiff and poised as Mako’s own side: apparently a drawn-out tension of simply _glaring_ at each other until one actually made a move instead of growling empty threats.

But he didn’t plan on starting a skirmish. (Energy he hoped to save for Ju-long and _his_ dumb face next time he saw him.) And so even then, his advances stopped there: back to waiting and seeing if she or the Dai Li had any ideas up their sleeves. Powerful opponents, certainly, and no easy endeavor to fight off, but he reminded himself of his options.

A course of action, should it arise: immobilize Jeza first. Her bending relied entirely on her _hands_ , and therefore made a solution simpler in comparison to dealing with Amon himself so many years ago. Keep the Dai Li _away_ from her so they could not in fact assist her when knocked from the fight. And they didn’t know, did they—? That they weren’t just facing another earthbender, but a _lavabender_ , too?

Should Wing and Wei end up joining them, they were not only outnumbered, but outmatched; his confidence that they could win kept a fire alight in his core—if they had to. If they absolutely _had to_.

They’d be fine.

… _he_ would be fine.

~~When was he not?~~

Then again, the one thing he _didn’t_ factor into his predictions (into the meticulous thoughts to again ward off a fluctuating anxiety) was that 1) someone in his group would act without cause, and 2) that person would just straight-up throw a boulder right at Jeza’s head.

Okay, actually: and 3) she too wouldn’t expect it and therefore the attack would successfully hit, and _finally_ 4) even the Dai Li—?

_No one_ anticipated it: that rock flinging from the nearest wall—no different than if it had just made the decision on its own—and thumping impressively against the side of her face. Flabbergasted, the lot of them, there was a long moment’s pause before anyone so much as _blinked_.

Only as Jeza fell to the ground nursing the trauma to her skull ( _oh_ , Mako _hoped_ that one hurt for awhile) did Mako turned incredulously to his brother.

A scornful look met fast by the bender holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t do it—!”

“My bad.” Collective attention swiveled to Tu traipsing over to join them, and he rotated his arm in its socket. “She was just getting on my nerves, y’know?”

Bolin pointed with a degree of mystification. “Whoa, so you _can_ —”

He had started it, though.

Now they had to expect to finish it.

Because just then did the Dai Li leap into action. An incapacitated Jeza (even if temporary) offered an advantage for their unofficial Team Avatar still, but a mess perhaps entirely unnecessary (and as premature as this) would make for a clumsy clean-up. And a disorienting affair in general.

Mako saw all matter of earth fly from directions that wouldn’t have been possible if they weren’t underground: an attempt to lock Opal’s wrists in a mold behind her back, a large stone streaking across the dim cavern only for Bolin to redirect it at Opal’s attacker, the very floor beneath them quaking with some ill intent. Mako’s focus tailed the boulder now in his brother’s command, and a fight response kicked at his heels so that he ran on behind it, the perfect shield and cover for landing his own attack.

He sent a blast of fire at one agent pursuing Tu, bright and blinding to set off the assailant’s balance even when he lifted rock to block it. When Mako felt a gale propel him off of his feet and forward, he needed merely peek back to notice a jut of earth that had previously been aimed to trip him: the split-second eye contact with Opal was his offer of gratitude.

Among the discord, his destination remained the path the twins had been preparing for them. He veered nimble toward the upward slope, and with adrenaline rushing hot in his ears turned to his friends still fighting their way through.

“Go!” Opal hollered, another blast of wind sweeping a couple agents off their feet. “Mako, Bolin—go!”

Bolin scrambled forward to narrowly dodge what would’ve been a feeble attempt to shackle him in cuffs of stone.

“But—”

“We can hold them off,” Opal bolstered, but she didn’t meet his eye in her concentration on the enemies. “Just go ahead and find Wu!”

Even as his brother made it to his side, Mako hesitated, disquieted look sinking to a Jeza gradually finding her bearings again; she was hobbling back to her feet, complete with a struggle but almost certainly on the verge of joining the throng.

He ducked as another slab of stone came his way, and yet without necessity when it crumbled to pieces before even reaching him.

Two hands found both of his shoulders. Wing and Wei went running past to join their sister after the reassuring touch.

But Mako shook his head. _Refused_. As if escaping from the tunnels wasn’t the exact thing he had been wanting so badly. He stood his ground and stared at his companions—his _friends_ —racing off without so much as a reluctant lapse, and he knew. He couldn’t. He _couldn’t_ just…

A hitch in his breath, on the brink of _arguing_ , but blatant enough across his expression that no words were required be heard; Bolin stumbled into him before he could make a sound.

Courtesy of their cousin physically pushing them onward.

“ _Go!_ ”

Most likely, he’d have been too stubborn to actually agree. Moreover, take too long oscillating between decisions until he had no choice but to. Had Bolin not reeled in the conviction for them both, they’d still be standing there, but an urgency found his brother soon enough to compel a response. And by a strong hand hooking the bend of his arm, he was all but dragged away.

At least until he found his own footing. At least until he shook off—rather, buried—his guilt for the sake of the original task at hand. With an energized and frantic tingle in his legs, Mako matched his pace with Bolin’s and climbed the path forged now just for them.

Knowing he couldn’t dare let himself look back.


	19. No Longer Trembling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blinks one eye at a time  
> it's been a hot minute
> 
> wOWowowow. OKAY. I'm SO SORRY everyone!! I could list a million excuses but I won't bore you so uhhh... forgive me and here's a chapter for you finally!
> 
> I'm going to try my best to get cracking on this and finish this up over the next few weeks. "Try" is the keyword here. I'm stoked to be diving back into this and finally wrapping it up with a pretty bow (maybe just a few more chapters left)!
> 
> Thanks a MILLION for your patience. And apologies 1) for the wait and 2) for a rusty chapter after so long of not writing these characters.
> 
> You guys rock!!

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay leaving Opal back there?”

Adrenaline mingled with that same desperation of before, and Mako’s body now acted in his mind’s stead to carry him onward: a straight-shot to a freedom he hoped would bury the effects of trauma still his potent poison. Distantly did he hear the commotion die behind them in feeble echoes through the labyrinth. He thought Jeza’s voice was in there. But he ignored it.

“Uh, no—? Not, uhh… not really,” Bolin shot back, seemingly too distracted with a successful escape to slow down and reconsider.

They simultaneously lost their footing at one particularly steep slope in the manufactured path, but progress was barely hindered.

“I wouldn’t be okay leaving anyone back there,” he went on, “but we’re kind of out of options, aren’t we?” Any loose rubble in their way was swept aside with hardly a moment’s thought. “You’ve seen her; you know she takes care of herself better than I ever could.”

Which was a phrase that contrasted the trickle of uncertainty in Bolin’s voice, and the sidelong look he tossed his brother in silent plea that he offer agreement—or maybe encouragement. Like all of this prattle was to convince _himself_ of what was already a concern so soon after parting ways.

And Mako couldn’t blame him, much less pretend he didn’t empathize in entirety.

After all, weren’t those feelings the precise feelings that had led him to this moment—?

More or less led him to _abandon_ the rest of their team?

“Bo, I—”

“She’ll be fine.”

Bolin cut him off with more conviction than before.

“I trust her.”

Nothing if not that by itself impeded Mako’s hast, and would’ve been reason to trip had his legs not already made up their mind to continue forward. The whole _trust_ thing again. Apparently the one thing ( _one_ …? Or just one among many things) he struggled to establish in his own… _potential_ partner. And here Bolin stated it as easily as if it were common knowledge, common and indisputable fact.

Damn it all.

How contemptuous could Mako be in his own affairs?

Okay. Okay, okay, _okay—enough._ One thing at a time. His thoughts began their roiling and muddling loops, a ghostly chime in his ears, a pounding of sporadic rhythm through the whole of his head. Mako shook himself back to the present, reminded of his whereabouts; dust again stuck to his lungs and constricted panicked exhales—

But they were almost there.

Almost out.

Almost…

_Wu._

Molten heat thickened in his legs when he pressed them harder, faster. It felt like a path that should’ve been short was taking _forever_ , and there was no light outside of the sputtering flame he wielded, no semblance of air any fresher than that in which they were being choked. He passed up his brother in a rush bordering on manic. The tunnel only seemed to stretch longer. Thinner. _Caving_ in on them and preventing any breath from offering relief.

No—

No!

_Let me out!_

And he didn’t know where he was going anymore if not forward. Blurred darkness encroached on his peripherals. All sound washed out like a dam had crumbled and flooded his ears, but the pounding now was that of the tripping in the cavity of his chest.

He emerged at some point.

But not into fresh air, into sunlight, into any form of alleviation—at first.

It was still dark. Through that did he climb stairs without realizing it, finally discovering light not by his own invention and blinking bleary at a world slowly righting itself again. A voice sifted through that petrified fog and was recognized as… strangely _not_ familiar.

And it repeated itself until Mako could discern from where it came.

“—you listening? What are you doing here?”

He blinked rapidly: an endeavor to quell a dizziness as he turned to the palace guard. Behind him, through the same door at the top of those stairs, a hand fell heavy and exhausted on his shoulder; Bolin wheezed something indecipherable upon catching up.

“I’m—where’s…” Somehow, Mako's brain wasn’t yet ready for words. “President Wu? Or the… Ju-long. The Dai Li?”

“Yeah, let’s stop and ask for directions when we break into some place we shouldn’t be,” Bolin offered through gasping for air. “Seems fool-proof.”

But contrary to that belief, the guard appeared reluctant to show any hostility—even be bothered at _all_ by the two emerging so abruptly out of nowhere (or the prison block he hadn’t seen them enter). After a moment’s pause, catching up to the situation in a way similar to Mako himself, he simply pointed down the corridor.

“They’re in a meeting.” Another moment of quiet. “Both of them.”

“For what?” Mako posed this question over his shoulder as he sidled past and began a brisk walk.

“Can’t say because I don’t know.”

His steps faltered. He turned his torso to better find the honest perplexity on the other’s face.

“And is it—” Again, a lapse while his brain and mouth attempted to find common ground and recall what syllables made what. “Are they— Is it just the two of them?”

“They have two more guards outside the door, but I believe Ju-long has a few agents in the room.”

No panicking, yet—as much as his mentality teetering over the edge wanted to find every negative aspect of that predicament… No, Ju-long gained nothing from hurting Wu. Not within the palace walls. And taking him elsewhere—another kidnapping—had no logic leading to such result.

It was fine. Wu was fine. He had to believe that, trust that, _convince_ himself of that to hold a composure and sanity that still clung on feeble threads.

A meeting meant… well, nothing that Mako couldn’t fix by interrupting.

Or maybe nothing Wu couldn’t already avoid on his own.

_Hell if he knew what was best for him_.

Mako now just wanted nothing more than to see him and _know_ —

**He’s okay.**

So he said nothing else, maybe muttered a thank you and dragged Bolin along before more questions could be asked. He knew better than to trust _anyone_ just yet, and though that particular guard seemed highly unfazed by his reappearance, there was no guaranteeing Ju-long didn’t now have influence over the rest of the palace staff. Mako wanted to warn them. Make a note of the impending—if not _present_ —corruption (and too send help to the friends they had left behind).

But he steeled his resolve to that one task at a time and went ahead with purpose acting as a good veil to anyone they’d pass—like he belonged here as much as everyone else, and he knew precisely where he was going.

Which he did.

And while Bolin skittered at his heels with nerves showing enough for the two of them, Mako didn’t give an inch even when faced with the pair of metalbenders at the door between him and his destination. Him and Wu. Him and the one trying to manipulate Wu. Him and the one guy he wanted to punch more than anyone else in the world.

It should’ve shocked him, the police officers better known for their stations in Republic City here in Ba Sing Se, but his one-track mind allowed only a blink’s worth of astonishment. They looked at him expectantly at his blatant approach—sizing him and his audacity up.

“You can tell Wu his personal bodyguard is back,” he declared, a confidence drowning the last quakes of anxiety. “I need to speak with him. Now.”

Still, for another uncomfortable series of moments, the officers didn’t do anything but exchange a look.

Bolin poked his head up from behind his brother. “Or after the meeting! If it’s a big important ‘no interruptions or you get locked up in a cell’ sort of affair! We can wait—”

“This way.”

Emotionless, one of the metalbenders pivoted and turned the knob of the closed door. She cracked it partially at first, no visibility for the two awaiting an audience but nevertheless setting a flurry to Mako’s insides. (He craned his neck some in fruitless efforts to catch so much as a glimpse of Wu on the other side.)

“What’s this?” Ju-long’s response. “I explicitly ordered that there be no disruptions.” Conviction in Mako wavered innately, and he despised that some part of him couldn’t help fearing what he continuously told himself not to. What he persistently fought to shake, to not be _owned_ by.

Oh, no; _you_ aren’t his master, Ju-long.

His tail wasn’t between his legs.

And he wasn’t going to tremble around you anymore.

Enough.

_Enough of this—!_

He nearly would’ve shoved past the officer in a final effort to leap that gap before anxiety stole him away—had the door not then been pushed farther and the opposite hand scooped around him to usher him through. True to the word of the guard outside the prison block, the room looked all the more expansive with only a handful of Dai Li agents around the walls. Only their leader standing close to a long table.

And only one seat utilized at the head, occupied by a certain ex-prince.

Mako met his curious stare for too short a time to process any feelings.

“Apologies, sir,” the officer said with a respectful nod, “but we’ve direct orders from President Wu regarding this one.”

That hand at Mako’s back shifted to grab somewhat _firmer_ on his uninjured arm.

“Shall we take the traitor into custody, President?”


	20. The Same Mistakes

Bolin spoke for him.

“Wait, what?”

Which was more or less precisely where Mako’s mind was, just one step behind in verbalizing it.

He hadn’t paid attention to his brother walking in at his tail, nor to the way the other officer once outside the door remained glued to his side: a hand on his shoulder as if that would hold him back. All at once, Mako was confused, exasperated, and infuriated, and every emotion directed at either of the gentlemen across from him (though the latter more so toward Ju-long; he continued ignoring the bubbles of nerves in his stomach just at _seeing_ the Dai Li leader).

And maybe his focus on his main reason for being here—on Wu _himself_ —was what ultimately prevented him from just marching across the room and throwing fire point blank in that familiar face (make it wildly unfamiliar). No, Mako, grasping as much of the situation as he could, remained a respectable and compliant distance away.

But he felt something in him lurch at the exact moment Wu got to his feet.

“No, no.” The president listlessly waved a hand in the air. “There’s nowhere for them to go now. In fact…” His face screwed up for a thoughtful pause. “Officers, could you find where they got in for me—? And bring the rest of their coconspirators—that’s a word right? Bring them in.”

 _Coconspirators—?_ Mako had thought, in that moment that now felt like entire lifetimes ago, Wu couldn’t surprise or throw him off any more than he did—any more than that morning he adopted an aloof manner and brushed his bodyguard off entirely. But here, now…

This had to be the work of—

“The Dai Li are in the catacombs searching for them now, President,” Ju-long interjected, stepping up to stand right at Wu’s side. ( _Right at his side, that bastard._ Mako bristled.) “It will only be a matter of time before—”

“Are they _here_ with them in custody, Ju-long?” Wu raised his voice, authoritative and unyielding. Some strange shift in the atmosphere: of power and command and what no doubt was expected of a president, but— Seeing the way the manipulative freak minutely flinched and fell silent was just _one_ minor victory.

Even if Mako’s position was less than ideal, notwithstanding.

“Well—?” Daring him to argue, Wu angled his head to catch Ju-long’s gaze. The typically sinister man ended up merely clearing his throat and nodding a quiet obedience that continued giving Mako satisfaction—one he only _just_ managed to enjoy. “That’s what I thought.” He gestured to the metalbenders flanking his presumed traitors. “Tut tut! I’ll take things from here.”

Mako would’ve thought that meant he and Bolin would be free to stand there. Free to explain themselves, or perhaps just free in _general_ , and that the display had all been merely a ruse to grant them better privacy without formalities. But he continued to be thrown for a loop, as in a persistent dominating way of a monarch, Wu had only to snap his fingers up in the air. Point to the two intruders.

And then the Dai Li agents remaining in the room followed _his_ orders, filing in to replace the positions of the previous officers.

As one went to establish hold on Mako’s arm, he finally snapped out of a daze to wrench himself away.

“Wu, are you _crazy_?”

He took a single step forward. The agent snagged at his elbow with more force than necessary—at least until Wu lifted a placating hand.

“I don’t know,” the president said impassively. He closed more of the distance between them with slow and languid steps. “But you’re not really winning any points by calling me names.”

Something more in him churned the closer Wu got, the more of his features he could see: the bruising on his jaw that had faded just _slightly_ enough to still be visible. Mako let out a huff as he raced to organize his thoughts, shaking his head and ripping his eyes away to see if coherence would follow.

“That’s not what I—” He clenched his jaw. Though Wu remained fuzzy in his peripheral, he chanced a look at Ju-long still standing several paces back, and that frustration sparked to life like a flame in his core. “It’s _him_ , isn’t it? What did he tell you?”

Even weirder was that Ju-long himself continued not saying anything—or maybe it wasn’t. Because there he went again giving Mako that smug look that spoke more volumes than any syllable ever could. So _proud_ , he simply held his position and gently tucked his hands behind his back, brow quirking and smile snaking up one side of his face.

Mako’s fingers twitched with an urge to bring that inner fire out.

“Well, when your personal bodyguard mysteriously goes missing right after your own kidnapping, and right after he conveniently went to ‘interrogate’ the kidnapper in her cell—it’s only natural I’d have questions.” Wu’s arms were crossed, now, and without meeting his stare, Mako felt the pathetic look glued to him. “Even more so when said bodyguard insists on keeping everything to himself; a bit _suspicious_ , isn’t it?”

Another set up. He hissed quietly through his teeth. Had _any_ of his actions not somehow worked to Ju-long’s benefit?

That smirk on the leader’s face gave him an answer he didn’t need.

“This is…” Mako finally gathered the courage to look back. He immediately regretted it when his voice fell in a weak exhale. “—insane.” Again, his head shook. “Wu, _seriously_? Why would I be conspiring against you? I’ve done nothing _but_ support you since—”

“No.” Wu lifted a finger and prodded at Mako’s chest. “You’ve done nothing but be entirely vexed by my existence until _convenient_ for you to suddenly be on my side.”

“Wu—!”

“And now you’re here with one of Kuvira’s initial supporters”—he cast a pointed glare at Bolin, who seemed ready to defend himself until Wu interrupted—“breaking into my palace, bursting into a meeting uninvited… What am I _supposed_ to think?”

Mako snapped before he could stop himself.

“You’re supposed to _think_! Just in general, **think**! For _once_!”

And it went frigidly quiet. In an instant, the heat rampant in Mako’s veins was shrouded in ice that prickled all the way down his spine—catching far too late what he had said and knowing there was no taking it back. He moved his jaw soundlessly, stammering over any attempt of a quick apology; Wu simply inclined his neck and arched his brows all the way beneath the neat curls in his face.

Even he didn’t talk, though his mouth hung partially open and his face suggested he was urging Mako to continue down that path: _see what happens_. Over his shoulder, Mako heard the soft intake of breath indicative of a cringe from his brother.

He supplied nothing but a stuttering, “W-wu, I— I didn’t mean—”

… before Ju-long was slowly clapping his hands and drifting across the floor to rejoin Wu’s side.

“My, my. You make an excellent case for yourself, Mako.” He came to a halt right behind the president’s shoulder; again, _exactly_ where Mako should be, and probably doing it on purpose. “Impressive. _Charming_. You need no one but yourself to dig that grave, don’t you?”

How quickly his priorities shifted. One moment desperately trying to prove that he’d never be caught _dead_ on any side against Wu, the next hardly caring _what_ Wu believed and wanting nothing more than to make it clear he didn’t think he was stupid. He wasn’t. He never _was_ , so why—?

_Why would you say that, idiot?!_

All the blood pumping through him was cold. Even with Ju-long’s condescending sneer, he didn’t dare look _away_ from Wu now, earnestly holding his stare and trying to communicate what he couldn’t find the words to do. Ju-long’s continued speech was a muffled drone in his ears: washed out, _irrelevant._

He didn’t care. He didn’t _care_. He just wanted—

Wu.

The worst part about this time was that he actually _saw_ the change in Wu’s face. He put on a good show, having first looked at him with the same appalled expression of authority met with unwarranted insolence. But it melted the longer they held eye contact. Not _sadness_ , really. More of an intimate disappointment: brokenhearted, and likely for the umpteenth time.

Wu wasn’t frowning or dejected. In fact, there was what almost seemed to be a regretful smile fluttering uncertainly at the corners of his mouth; his entire posture slackened with what once had been so powerful a composure. Whatever this was—this exchange even in the presence of a fair many others—was exclusively between them.

And Mako wanted nothing more than to reach out to him. He couldn’t tell for what reason—what he’d _do_. Just some form of physical affection while words continued eluding him.

But he lost that right a long time ago.

That wasn’t his place anymore.

He swallowed a lump too thick in his throat. His gaze dropped at the same time as he took a defeated backward step, not even noticing the Dai Li agent’s hand rediscovering grip on his bicep.

They were done here.

That, he was sure of.

As if on cue did the officers return, and this time having multiplied to successfully bring in the “conspirators.” They filed in from behind, and Mako only stole a glimpse he knew wasn’t necessary: Opal, Tu, Wei, Wing. His friends were all restrained, as too was Jeza by two metalbenders holding her especially tight.

Naturally. She was meant to look entirely unassociated with the Dai Li. Everything was falling into place.

Mako breathed out a quivering sigh.

“As requested, sir,” one of the original officers spoke up and bowed her head. “They came in under the prison block.”

“Ah!” Wu’s voice was chipper. He ventured away from Mako and left an even colder emptiness behind. “Probably where he and the, uhh”—a vague and highly disgusted wiggle of his fingers in Jeza’s direction—“bloodbender got out to begin with, huh?”

“Precisely,” Ju-long commended.

Mako wished he had the energy to shoot him a glare.

With a bright hum contrasting the grim situation, Wu pivoted to glance back at who seemed to be his new personal guard (or was doing his damnedest to act like it). He tapped a set of fingers to his lips for a momentary pause, then briskly clapped his hands together.

“Okay, okay; I think we’re done. I’m getting sick of this, aren’t you?”

Hard to tell exactly who the recipient was when he maintained a stare on Ju-long, but things just kind of happened then. And Mako didn’t have the opportunity to follow. He heard the commotion before he saw it, before he felt the clutch on him slide away and the Dai Li once detaining him get yanked to the side. Simultaneously with the rest of the agents.

By the time he had turned around to acclimate himself to _what_ in the world was going on, the metalbenders had released their original prisoners and instead claimed the Dai Li in control. Locks of iron around their hands, or otherwise held in a grip too much of an impairment to be fought against—

Mako, Bolin, all of their friends… they were _free_.

And the only member of the Dai Li still standing without cuffs—

He must’ve been too stunned to act initially. When Mako whipped his attention back, he saw the paralyzed shock on his face, and the color thereafter leave it. In that span of time, President Wu had meandered on back to Ju-long’s side, one hand extended to rest on his shoulder.

Instinct flared at Mako’s heels: habit to rush to his rescue before Ju-long got a hold of himself and found a way to turn on him, still.

But protection wasn’t needed.

Because right then, right there, Wu positioned himself to face the Dai Li leader directly. That hand perched on his shoulder tightened enough to establish a grip for which Mako didn’t know the reason until a split second later.

He jerked his knee upward. Right between Ju-long’s legs.

And the _real_ traitor crumpled to the floor.

“ _That_ ,” Wu began, proudly perching his knuckles on his hips, “is for damaging my personal bodyguard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even express how long both I and Wu have wanted to do that. Thank GOODNESS it finally happened--whew.
> 
> Anyway! It brings me so much joy that I can go on a super long hiatus and still have readers following and supporting this fic! Thank you so much for being such sweethearts and being so invested; it really does motivate me and make my day!
> 
> I wanted to get these chapters out in quick succession while I had the inspiration to write them. With the upcoming holidays, I can't guarantee the next chapter will be out for another few weeks, but I'm going to try to stay on top of this and not go on an insanely long hiatus again :')
> 
> If I don't post anything beforehand, happy holidays and here's to wrapping this up very soon! Thanks, guys!


End file.
